


the whole truth

by Spikedluv



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Implied Lydia/Allison, Implied Peter/Chris, Implied Relationships, M/M, Pre-Slash, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks, implied scott/isaac - Freeform, post-season 2 finale, stiles is something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-28 01:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17173535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: When Stiles discovers that Boyd and Erica are still missing, he decides to help find them despite Scott being too busy to help and Derek not wanting his help.  He thinks he knows what's going on, but after unwrapping layer upon layer of 'truth', Stiles realizes that there are things going on that he never imagined.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for notvirginiawoolf who kindly bid on me for FandomCares and cheerleaded me through the writing process. She asked for _Stiles feeling lonely/discouraged/rejected and then finding that he is actually loved/valued._ My muse immediately went to the summer between season two and three.
> 
> This story begins one week post-season two finale.
> 
> Posted: December 26, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles confronts the Argents, learns he likes sweet tea, can't say no to Lydia, starts his summer job, deals with an unhelpful Deaton, meets Satomi, and makes a shocking discovery.

One Week Later: Saturday

Stiles killed the engine and sat in the Jeep for a few minutes. Now that he was there it was too late to turn around and leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to get out. The longer Stiles put it off the worse it got because Derek not only knew he was out there, but also how long he’d been dithering. Stiles took a deep breath and threw himself out of the Jeep so he didn’t have a chance to change his mind, flailing as he tried to pull his long legs out before he face-planted the ground.

Despite the sun shining brightly (or maybe because of it) the foreboding remains of the Hale house loomed over Stiles as he approached, giving him the heebie jeebies. Making it appear even stranger, the front door had been painted a deep red that clashed with the weathered and charred exterior. Stiles knocked, but there was no answer. He pushed the door open and took a single step forward. Light filtered through the broken windows and a hole in the roof, but somehow it still managed to seem dark inside the house. Stiles paused on the threshold and called out Derek’s name.

Stiles stepped inside when there was no answer. He poked his head into what had probably been the living room – there was a big fireplace and the skeleton of what appeared to have once been a plush chair – and called Derek’s name again.

“What do you want?” Derek demanded.

Stiles startled and jerked back. Derek strode towards Stiles angrily. (Derek did everything angrily, but Stiles had a better understanding of why now than he’d had when they first met three months ago.) At the end of the wide hallway, the backdoor stood open, which explained where Derek had come from.

“Hey,” Stiles said, wiping his palms on the seat of his pants.

Derek crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Get on with it, right,” Stiles said. “I didn’t see Boyd or Erica in school this week.” Derek’s lips tightened and Stiles forced himself to continue. “I wanted to make sure they were alright after . . . well, after.”

“After what?” Derek growled.

Stiles swallowed hard at the memory. “After what happened with Gerard.”

“Are you talking about what happened at the warehouse?”

“No,” Stiles said, then paused to reevaluate the situation. “Didn’t they tell you?”

Derek bared his teeth, then visibly deflated. “They’re not here.”

“What do you mean, they’re not here? Are they home?”

“I mean, they left and they never came back.”

Stiles shook his head. “No.”

Isaac appeared from the back of the house and Stiles turned the anger that had been simmering since last weekend onto him. “Why didn’t you tell me that Boyd and Erica weren’t here when I asked you?”

“Because it wasn’t any of your business,” Isaac snapped back.

“Fuck you, Isaac,” Stiles said.

Isaac took a threatening step towards Stiles, only stopping at a quelling look from Derek.

“Tell me what happened,” Derek said.

“Fuck you, too, Derek!” Stiles said, stomping towards the open front door. “Information works both ways.”

“Stiles!” Derek said. “Stiles, get back here!”

Stiles got in the Jeep and slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Derek had followed him out of the house and stood on the porch watching him. Stiles tore up dirt when he turned around and pointed the Jeep towards the road. He only hesitated a moment at the end of the driveway before pulling out.

~*~

Five miles later Stiles hit the brake hard enough to jerk himself forward when he stopped. He’d worked up a head of steam so there was no hesitation before he jumped out of the Jeep and hurried up the sidewalk. Stiles continuously rang the doorbell until Chris Argent opened the door with an annoyed expression. His expression barely changed when he recognized Stiles.

“Stiles . . .”

Stiles pushed past Argent without waiting for an invitation.

“Come on in,” Argent said, shutting the door.

“Where are they?” Stiles said, ignoring Argent’s sarcasm.

“Where are who?”

Stiles scoffed. “Boyd and Erica. You said you were going to let them go.”

“I did let them go.”

“Did you kill them?”

“No!” Argent said, but Stiles hadn’t been talking to him.

“No,” Allison said. “I didn’t kill them.”

“You expect me to believe you?”

“You can believe me or not,” Allison said. “I don’t care.”

“Which is what they mean by, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” Stiles said. To Argent he said, “I want to see the basement.”

Argent didn’t look like he was going to argue, but Stiles headed to where he remembered the basement door to be, not taking the chance. Stiles tried the handle and felt a sense of relief when it didn’t turn. He stepped back and gestured for Argent to unlock the door as if his heart wasn’t beating wildly in his chest.

Argent opened the door and turned on the light. Stiles stared at the steps he’d been thrown down. His breaths started coming fast.

“Stiles, you don’t have to do this,” Argent said.

“Yes, I do,” Stiles said, and stepped onto the first stair.

Stiles was halfway down the steps when he heard a sound behind him. He turned around, afraid they were closing the door and locking him in again, but it was only Allison following him. “People know I’m here this time,” Stiles said, wishing he’d actually told someone where he was going. “They’ll come looking for me if I don’t come back.”

“This time?” Allison said.

“I’m not going to lock you in, Stiles,” Argent said resignedly.

Stiles kept going until he could see where Boyd and Erica had been strung up. They weren’t there, and the rest of the basement appeared to be empty. “That’s where Gerard tortured them,” Stiles said to Allison, gesturing. “I don’t suppose there’s a hidden room down here?” he said to Argent.

“There’s no hidden room.”

Stiles headed back to the stairs, eager to be out of there. He couldn’t help hesitating at the spot where he’d fallen to the floor and Gerard had . . . Stiles went up the stairs more quickly than he’d gone down them.

“Where are they?”

Argent waited until Allison stepped through the doorway, then closed the door and turned the lock. “I don’t know where they are. I let them go. I assumed they went back to Derek.”

“They never made it,” Stiles said.

Allison touched Stiles’ arm as he turned to leave. “Stiles, what happened to you?”

“You mean Gerard didn’t tell you the details of his plan to rough me up a little bit to send a message to Scott?”

Allison looked horrified. “No! Stiles, I . . .”

“What?” Stiles said. “Would’ve stopped him?” He gave a derisive laugh. “What did Boyd and Erica ever do to you that made you think torturing _them_ was a good idea?”

Stiles left without giving Allison a chance to answer. She caught up with him before he reached the Jeep.

“Derek killed my mother.”

Stiles stopped as if he’d hit a wall. “What?”

“Well,” Allison backtracked. “He caused her death.”

“How?” Stiles said.

“He bit her.”

“Did the bite not take?” Stiles said, his mind turning over everything Peter had told him.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“She did what hunters have been doing for hundreds of years when they get bitten – she killed herself before she could turn.”

“Jesus. Look, I’m sorry that your mother is gone,” Stiles said, unable to forget the empty space the loss of his mother had left in his own life, “but she’s the one who chose to die instead of living as a werewolf.”

“Derek shouldn’t have bitten her,” Allison snarled.

“Why would Derek do that?” Stiles said.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, how do you know it was Derek?”

“Because he’s the only alpha in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles couldn’t argue with that. Wait, yes he could. “That we know of,” he said. “When did Derek bite her? Where did it happen?”

“I don’t know the specifics,” Allison said. “I only know what she told me. It might have happened that night at the warehouse.”

Stiles filed that away to think about later. “She actually told you it was Derek who bit her?”

“Yes.”

“But she didn’t give you any other information about what happened?”

“No. The letter . . .”

“The letter?”

“My mother wrote a letter that I received after she died.”

“Because those can’t be forged.”

“Who would do that?” Allison said angrily. The expression started to fade the moment the words were out.

“What is it?”

“My grandfather, Gerard gave me the letter. He said he helped my mother write it.”

“Well, that isn’t suspicious at all,” Stiles said.

Allison looked like someone had slapped her.

“I am sorry about your mother. I mean, she was scary as hell, but she was still your mom.”

Allison nodded. “And I’m sorry about what Gerard did to you.”

Stiles waited. “Anything else?”

Allison shook her head. “I can’t. Not yet.”

Stiles bit back a scathing retort, recalling how he’d shrunk into himself and lashed out at everyone by turns after his mom had died. He left Allison on the sidewalk and got into the Jeep. Halfway home Stiles started shaking so badly he had to pull over. Luckily there was a Jack In The Box a few blocks up so Stiles pulled into the drive-thru. He ordered a large curly fry and a Dr. Pepper and ate them in the Jeep until he could manage the drive home.

~*~

“Where have you been?” Derek said.

Stiles jumped so hard he might’ve pulled a muscle. “What. The hell. Derek?” Stiles threw the jacket he’d been about to hang over the back of his computer chair at Derek. It fell short.

Derek merely looked at the jacket lying on the floor, then turned his glare back onto Stiles. “What did you mean about Gerard?”

Stiles told Derek everything about finding Boyd and Erica in the basement, trying to free them, and finally convincing Chris Argent to let them go. “I just went back,” Stiles said. “They’re not in the basement and Argent swears he let them go.”

“You believe him?”

“I think _he_ believes in the Code, so yes.”

Derek frowned. “Why were you there? In the basement?”

“Gerard,” Stiles said. He gestured towards his face before he could second-guess himself.

“Gerard did that?” Derek said. “I wasn’t really paying attention . . . I just assumed that happened when you rammed in with the Jeep.”

“No. Gerard wanted to send a message to Scott.”

“Did it work?”

“I never told Scott,” Stiles said. “And he never asked.”

“Scott never asked what happened to you?”

“He’s got more important things on his mind.” At Derek’s raised eyebrow Stiles said, “Allison’s not returning his calls.”

Derek snorted. Stiles nodded in agreement with the sentiment.

Scott had also expected Stiles to pat him on the back for his grand plan, and had been put out when Stiles hadn’t praised him. Which reminded him. “Scott told me what he did.”

Derek tilted his head in question.

Stiles gestured towards Derek. “With Gerard.”

The corners of Derek’s jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry he did that.”

Derek looked surprised.

“If I’d known . . .”

“Scott didn’t tell you his plan?”

“No. I was out of the loop.” Stiles swallowed everything else he wanted to say because he still wasn’t over finding out that Scott had been working with Deaton and fake-working with Gerard and planning all along to betray Derek.

“There’s something else you should know.”

Derek made a ‘get on with it’ gesture.

“Did you bite Victoria Argent?”

“No! I wouldn’t do that. The bite is a . . .”

“Gift, I know.” Stiles chewed on the end of his hoodie string. “Allison thinks you did. Apparently that’s why her mother really killed herself. If it wasn’t you, then who?”

A strange expression crossed Derek’s face.

“What is it?” Stiles said.

“Nothing.”

It was such an obvious lie that Stiles was insulted. He opened his mouth to call Derek on it, but Derek spoke again before he could.

“Stay out of it, Stiles.”

“How can I stay _out of nothing_?” Stiles said, yelling the last three words because Derek had already disappeared out the window.

Stiles slammed the window shut and threw the lock home. He muttered, “Asshole!”

 

Over the Next Few Weeks:

Stiles tried to do his homework that weekend, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Boyd and Erica. On Monday Scott was even more blue because Allison had finally spoken to him, but only to tell him that she wasn’t in a place where she could date anyone right now.

Allison was back in school because she couldn’t miss exams. Isaac bared his teeth at Stiles when he asked if there was any word about Boyd and Erica. (Since neither of them was at school, Stiles figured that meant no.)

Lydia didn’t ignore Stiles, exactly, but she and Jackson were connected at the hip after what had happened, so Stiles steered clear except for the briefest exchanges to make sure Lydia was alright. (Jackson could go jump off a cliff as far as Stiles was concerned.)

Scott spent the school days staring at Allison like a creeper. (Stiles rolled his eyes and ignored the fact that he used to stare at Lydia the same way.) On the days he wasn’t working at the Animal Clinic Stiles invited Scott over to play video games or do homework, but Scott spent most of the time moping over Allison and Stiles spent most of it biting his tongue.

Stiles stopped inviting Scott over and Scott . . . didn’t seem to notice.

Stiles spent most of that time studying for finals, but he also took one of the several maps – with Beacon Hills on one side and Beacon County on the other that his dad kept around for work purposes – and drew a line from the Argent house to the Hale house. Stiles studied the route, noting various landmarks nearby. They’d been hurt and scared, though, so it was possible that Boyd and Erica hadn’t traveled in a straight line.

Stiles marked the streets they would have taken to get from point A to point B. The problem was, even if they’d started out on the streets they could’ve taken to the woods at any time. Plus there were service roads into the Preserve they could have used. Stiles threw down the highlighter in frustration. There was a lot of ground to cover.

The next day after school Stiles drove to the Argent’s house and followed the street route out to the driveway to the Hale house. Stiles didn’t see anything out of place, but he didn’t know what to look for. The following day Stiles noticed a ‘missing persons’ flier pinned to the bulletin board outside the school office.

Stiles stopped so suddenly that he got run over by two students who’d been right behind him. Stiles stepped out of the flow of students with an absent apology and left them swearing and picking up the books they’d dropped. He read the flier, but it didn’t contain any additional information that could help Stiles find Boyd and Erica. But it did give him an idea.

Stiles told Danny what he needed. When Danny hesitated, Stiles said, “What if Jackson was the one missing?”

Danny gave Stiles a look, but he started typing on his cell phone. A moment later he wrote something down, and then again a few minutes after that. Stiles took the paper Danny handed him, which had the address and phone numbers for Boyd’s grandmother and Erica’s parents.

“You hacked into the school’s records that quickly?” Stiles said, impressed.

“No,” Danny said. “I Googled them.”

“Googled,” Stiles repeated.

“Sometimes the easiest solutions are the best ones,” Danny said. “You can find all sorts of things on the internet.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles said, still kicking himself that he hadn’t thought of it. “I wrote an essay on the history of the male circumcision for my econ mid-term.”

Danny gave Stiles a look, but didn’t reply to that. He said, “Stop asking me for help,” and walked away.

Stiles folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. For the rest of the day, he kept slipping his hand into his pocket to make sure the paper was still there.

Stiles ran into Scott at their lockers. He grabbed the books he needed to do homework that night and said, “See ya!” Scott was too busy staring down the hall at Allison to notice. Stiles never thought he’d appreciate Scott’s obsession with Allison, but today it allowed him to sneak away without having to field any questions about where he was going.

Boyd’s address was closest, so Stiles went there first. His grandmother opened the door to Stiles’ knock. Her face fell when she saw him, but she retained her composure. “Hello?”

“Hello, Mrs. Boyd?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Stiles. A friend of Boyd’s from school.”

Mrs. Boyd studied Stiles. “I don’t remember Vernon ever mentioning you, Stiles.”

“Well, we were more like acquaintances,” Stiles admitted. “We were on the lacrosse team together, and we kinda belonged to the same club. I knew Boyd and Erica. We helped each other out sometimes. With school stuff. I saw the flier today at school.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“Yes!” Stiles said.

Mrs. Boyd stepped back and Stiles slipped past her. He studied what he could see of the house from the entryway – everything looked neat, though there were strategically placed doilies on the furniture and throw rugs on the floor that might hide threadbare patches and cracked linoleum.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” Mrs. Boyd said after she closed the door.

“Only if you’re having something,” Stiles said. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“I have iced tea.”

“I’d love some iced tea,” Stiles said, waiting until Mrs. Boyd had turned towards the kitchen to make a face. He hated iced tea.

Stiles studied Boyd’s grandmother while she got glasses out of the cupboard and a pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. Her hair was still black, but there were strands of silver sprinkled throughout it that sparkled like tinsel. She was taller than Stiles with shoulders that stooped from the weight of her missing grandson.

Stiles accepted the glass Mrs. Boyd handed to him and took a polite sip. His eyes went wide at the taste. “What is this?”

“Iced tea,” Mrs. Boyd said.

“Iced tea has never tasted quite like this!”

Mrs. Boyd smiled. “Never had sweet tea?”

“I’ve put sugar in my iced tea before,” Stiles said. He’d had to do something to cover the taste.

“Not the same thing,” Mrs. Boyd said.

“I’d say. It tastes like magic! Which would make you a witch. But the good kind!”

Mrs. Boyd had led them to the living room and she indicated that Stiles should have a seat on the couch while she took her usual chair, if the knitting basket on the floor beside it and the book on the side table were any indication.

“Why are you here, Stiles?” Mrs. Boyd said, not unkindly.

“I want to help.”

“We’ve reported the children missing,” Mrs. Boyd said. “The Sheriff Department is looking for them. What can you do that they can’t?”

“My dad’s the sheriff,” Stiles said, “so I’m not going to diss the Sheriff Department.”

“You’re Sheriff Stilinski’s son?”

“Yes, which is why I know how hard he works, but that’s not the point. The Sheriff Department is busy with hundreds of cases. They don’t have the resources – time, manpower – to put into a missing persons case. I, on the other hand, will soon be a boy with nothing else to do over summer vacation. Plus, I have a personal stake in wanting them found.”

“Does your father know you’re here?”

“No,” Stiles said honestly. “But I’m sure he’d appreciate me having something to do that kept me out of trouble.”

“You sound like you can be quite a handful,” Mrs. Boyd said. Her shoulders straightened. “How do you think you could help?”

Stiles had already given this some thought. “I could go door-to-door and hand out those fliers,” he said. “That’s about as far as I’ve thought,” Stiles lied. He didn’t think Mrs. Boyd would appreciate him scouring the Preserve any more than his dad would. “But I’m an out of the box thinker, so you never know what I might come up with.”

Mrs. Boyd studied Stiles as if looking for the lie in his words. Finally she said, “I suppose you can’t get into too much trouble handing out fliers.”

She had no idea. Stiles kept his hand at his side so he didn’t pump his fist. “No, ma’am,”he agreed.

Mrs. Boyd gave Stiles a pile of the fliers she and Erica’s parents had made up. “The Sheriff Department thinks it’s possible that Vernon and Erica ran off to be together, but I don’t believe that. Vernon wouldn’t let me worry.”

Stiles recalled Boyd’s and Erica’s faces when they were being tortured. He could totally see them wanting to leave Beacon Hills for someplace safer, but Mrs. Boyd was right – Boyd wasn’t the kind of person to make her worry. “No, he wouldn’t,” Stiles agreed.

Mrs. Boyd walked Stiles to the door. “Come back and I’ll show you how to make sweet tea,” she offered.

“I will,” Stiles said, even though he planned to Google it that night.

Stiles checked the time when he got back in the Jeep. It was nearly 3:30 pm, which meant he had at least an hour before he needed to beat his dad home for supper. Stiles started with the street on which the Argents lives. That was the one place Stiles knew Boyd and Erica had been, and it was possible that one of their neighbors had heard or seen something that night.

There was no answer at about half of the houses; their owners probably still at work. Stiles left fliers stuck between their doors or illegally stuffed into mailboxes. The people who did answer their doors claimed not to have heard or seen anything. Stiles left fliers with them anyway and asked them to call if they thought of anything.

Stiles left a dozen fliers down the walkway and scattered across the Argents front lawn, then went home to start supper.

~*~

Derek was waiting for Stiles when he got home the next day. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Stiles jumped, but he was too tired to get too worked up about Derek’s presence. He’d had an exam that morning and spent the afternoon knocking on doors. His feet and back were killing him.

Stiles sat on the computer chair and stretched his back. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Derek growled. “I told you to stay out of it!”

“You’ve told me to stay out of a lot of things, so still gonna need to be more specific.”

Derek silently held up a flier, slightly creased from being held in his hand.

“Oh,” Stiles said. “I’m handing out fliers.”

Derek crumpled the flier into a paper ball in a threatening manner, which shouldn’t have been as scary-hot as it was because even Stiles could do that without having werewolf strength.

“Oh, come on,” Stiles said. “How much trouble could I get into handing out fliers?”

Derek gave Stiles a long look and left without another word. Stiles waited until he was sure Derek was gone before shaking his head. Derek really should’ve known better; Stiles was, like, a trouble _magnet_.

Stiles took a bubble bath that night. He closed his eyes and let his brain play with everything he knew about Boyd and Erica’s disappearance, which, admittedly, wasn’t much. Stiles was thinking about Gerard’s evil face when his eyes popped open and he sat up. Gerard.

The next day Stiles asked Scott about Gerard. “What do you mean, you don’t know where he is?”

Scott shrugged. “When everything was over his body was gone.”

“Bodies don’t just get up and walk away!”

“He won’t be a problem,” Scott said confidently. “We made sure of that.”

Stiles took several deep breaths. Gerard, an old man (weakened from cancer, apparently), had beaten Stiles, had tortured Boyd and Erica, had stabbed Scott and threatened Melissa, and had come up with a plan to get bitten by a werewolf to cure said cancer, and then kill that werewolf so he could become the alpha. It was not a good idea to underestimate Gerard Argent.

“I’ll ask Allison when I see her,” Stiles said. It would be uncomfortable, but it was the only thing he could think of.

Scott looked like a kicked puppy dog. “Allison’s gone. Her last exam was this morning.”

“Then I’ll go to her house.”

“They’re not there,” Scott said. “They left for the airport right after her exam.”

“The airport?” Stiles said.

“They’re spending the summer in France, visiting family and . . .” Scott made a gesture that Stiles took to mean ‘dealing with all the shit that went down here’.

“Fine,” Stiles said. “I’ll text her.”

Stiles had to wait until after his next exam to send the text. _do u know where Gerard is_

Stiles didn’t get an answer until he was already home, having posted fliers down a few more blocks in the direction Boyd and Erica would have fled that night. _yes_

Stiles rolled his eyes at the brevity and sent _will he be a problem_

Stiles was studying for his last exam (read: Googling mountain ash) when Allison’s reply came in. _no_

Stiles huffed and pulled out the list he’d made.

_1\. Boyd and Erica – missing?_

_2\. Victoria Argent bitten – if not Derek, who?_

_3\. Gerard – where is he?_

Stiles hesitated (he wasn’t sure if he could trust Allison anymore) before drawing a line through number three.

Stiles’ last exam was in the afternoon, so he visited Deaton at the animal clinic in the morning. “Why isn’t Gerard dead?” Stiles said in lieu of a greeting.

“Hello, to you, too, Stiles,” Deaton said, unruffled.

“People who make secret plans don’t deserve hellos,” Stiles said. “The mountain ash was supposed to make him reject the bite. According to Peter, you either turn or you die. Gerard didn’t turn, but he apparently didn’t die, either.”

“He might’ve crawled away to die like a wounded animal might do,” Deaton said.

“Not according to Allison.”

Deaton looked surprised at that. Or, as surprised as he ever looked. “What did she tell you?”

“Surprisingly little,” Stiles said. “Which seems to be going around.”

“The effects of the mountain ash when ingested and subjected to a bite are unknown,” Deaton finally said after a short stand-off.

“Unknown,”Stiles repeated. “Well, that’s just . . .” He took a deep breath. “Why did you think mountain ash would do _anything_?”

“I read a theory about it somewhere,” Deaton said after a short hesitation that Stiles might not have caught if he wasn’t paying such close attention.

“Where’d you read about it, your veterinarian newsletter?”

“Don’t you have an exam?” Deaton said.

Stiles knew a dismissal when he heard one.

~*~

“You still interested in working at the Sheriff Department this summer?” Dad said Friday night over supper.

Stiles’ head came up. “Yeah! You . . . still want me to?” Things had been pretty strained between Stiles and his dad with the whole ‘kidnapping Jackson and losing his job’ thing.

“We could use the help,” Dad said.

“Yeah, okay. When do you want me to start?”

“Come in Monday morning so we can get you set up.”

“Awesome!” Stiles said. “Mo’ money!” At a look from his dad Stiles added, “And I’m happy to help, of course.”

Plus, it would give him the opportunity to see what the status was on the search for Boyd and Erica. Stiles immediately felt guilty that one of his first thoughts was how he could use his dad’s position, his dad’s _trust_ , to go behind his back and look at confidential BCSD files. Stiles banged his head on the table.

“Stiles,” Dad said worriedly.

“Just giving myself a stern talking to,” Stiles said, his voice muffled by the table.

“Let me know if it works.”

“Will do.”

~*~

Stiles called Scott later that night to see if he wanted to head out to the Preserve with him the next day. A map wasn’t going to help him in the woods and he wasn’t that great with a compass (he’d been too *disruptive* to stay in the Boy Scouts), but Scott’s werewolf senses might keep them from getting too lost.

“Um, Isaac’s coming over to play video games,” Scott said. “You can come over, too!”

“No thanks,” Stiles said. “I don’t want to be the third wheel to your new bromance.”

They talked for a few minutes about exams, their plans for the summer, but the topic inevitably turned to Allison. Stiles rolled his eyes and put the call on speaker so he could go over the map and ‘uh huh’d in all the right places. Even if he limited himself to the streets Boyd and Erica might have taken after Argent released them, he’d only canvassed about a quarter of them so far.

He was dying to check the Preserve, but Saturday would be a good time to actually catch people at home. Stiles was tempted to go back to Argent’s street and recanvas, but that was where Boyd and Erica had started; he needed to know where they’d ended up. Then again, just because Chris had let them go didn’t mean they’d gotten very far. What if another hunter had immediately scooped them up?

Stiles texted Allison again. _were there other hunters who could’ve picked up Boyd and Erica?_

Stiles took the phone off speaker and started a movie. Scott was still talking about Allison and some plan to win her back by becoming a better version of himself, or something.

 

The First Week of Summer Vacation: Saturday – Tuesday

A reply from Allison was waiting when Stiles got up Saturday morning. _not that we’re aware of_

“Helpful,” Stiles muttered.

The house was empty, his dad having already left for work because the Sheriff Department was short-staffed after what had happened with Matt and the kanima, so Stiles got ready quickly. He grabbed the backpack he’d packed the night before off the floor beside his desk and added a couple bottles of water from the fridge. He dug a S’mores Pop-Tart out of the box he’d hidden behind the quinoa and tore open the package to take a bite before heading out.

Stiles tried not to visit the houses where he’d already spoken to someone, but even so most people weren’t thrilled to be bothered on a Saturday morning. When one man got especially vocal Stiles let his eyes fill with tears and his lower lip tremble. “They were my friends,” Stiles said, his voice choked up.

“Jesus christ, Bob,” said Bob’s wife. She put her arm around Stiles’ shoulders and said, “I’m sorry, dear. We didn’t see or hear anything unusual that night. I’m sorry about your friends.”

The rest of the street was either afraid of Bob’s wife or didn’t want to be put in the same class with Bob because they were very polite. But no one had anything helpful to say.

At the last house Stiles asked, “If you were going to visit the Preserve, what’s the quickest way to get there from here?”

Turns out there was an old back road, unpaved and rarely used, that didn’t appear on the map. Stiles turned onto the dirt road and pulled over. The surface was rutted pretty badly and overgrown. Stiles didn’t know if the Jeep would make it very far.

Stiles marked the location of the road on the map, then shoved the map and highlighter into the side pocket of his backpack. He locked the Jeep and settled the pack on his shoulders. Stiles had watched enough survival movies to make sure he had plenty of water and snacks just in case he got lost. He checked the compass and glanced at the sun. Stiles didn’t know how the dirt road would wind, but right now both the sun and compass agreed that he was heading north.

Stiles walked for what seemed like forever. He checked his watch; ten minutes had passed. Stiles studied the ground, but the dirt was hard-packed and he couldn’t tell if anyone else had traveled this way. Stiles was beginning to wish he’d driven, but then he might’ve missed the spot at the edge of the road where the dirt had been scraped, as if someone had wanted to get off the road quickly.

Stiles studied the grass on the side of the road, but he couldn’t tell if it had been disturbed. He checked the compass. The road was still heading north. If Boyd and Erica had gone off the road here they’d be heading west, towards the Hale house.

Stiles got out a bottle of water and drank half of it, then followed the path he thought Boyd and Erica had taken. He kept the compass out to make sure he kept heading west. Ten minutes (and a lifetime) later, Stiles stepped onto a narrow path, probably a game trail.

The trail continued in a vaguely westerly direction so Stiles followed it. The trail, as narrow as it was, was easier than the grass which hid holes and partially buried nuts that had nearly caused a twisted ankle more than once. He hoped that Boyd and Erica would’ve thought so, too.

The trail eventually crossed a stream. Stiles checked the compass and resigned himself to having to cross the stream. He had to leave the trail to find a spot with some stones he could step on, but he slipped and got one foot wet anyway. On the other side Stiles returned to the trail and tried to ignore the wet sock that squelched as he walked. He should’ve thought to include an extra pair of socks and shoes in his pack.

Just as Stiles was wondering if he’d reached Hale land, or maybe overshot it, Derek casually stepped out from behind a tree. Stiles flailed and nearly fell over, then clutched his chest. “What the hell, Derek!”

“What are you doing here?” Derek said.

Stiles opened his mouth to reply.

“Five words or less.

“Out. For. A. Walk,” Stiles said, then added, “Derek.”

Derek’s face went more glower-y and Stiles briefly wondered if he’d gotten the reference.

“What are you doing out here?” Stiles said.

“I heard you crashing around out here.”

“Lies,” Stiles said.

“Isaac told me you were planning a hike in the Preserve.”

“Scott,” Stiles said bitterly.

“I told you to stay out of this.”

“Out of the Preserve?”

Derek’s expression barely changed, but Stiles saw the tightening of his lips. “It’s dangerous.”

“You worried about me, big guy? Trust me, I know from personal experience and anecdotal evidence how dangerous hunters can be.”

Derek growled, “Let’s go,” and turned away.

Stiles’ feet remained rooted to the ground. “Wait, Derek!” Stiles ran after Derek and immediately tripped over a root that hadn’t been there before. “Derek, what was that? That thing your face just did?”

Derek remained silent, his back so straight Stiles wondered if it hurt to keep it that way. Stiles continued to badger Derek because he was incapable of remaining silent for any length of time. They emerged in the clearing around the Hale house. Stiles looked around as if Peter might jump out at any moment. “Where’s zombie wolf?”

Derek might’ve twitched at that, but he didn’t answer Stiles’ question. Stiles got in the Camaro when Derek gestured angrily at it. Stiles stroked his hand over the leather seat, forgetting for a moment that Derek was being a douche wolf because he was _sitting in the Camaro_.

Stiles told Derek where to find the Jeep. When they got there, Derek stared intently at the dirt road.

“Did you know this was here?”

Derek scowled at Stiles. “Go home, Stiles. And stay out of this.”

“I can help . . .”

“You’re a liability,” Derek said. “I can’t search for Boyd and Erica when I have to worry about you getting into trouble.”

Stiles stood beside the Jeep as Derek left, the Camaro kicking up dust. “Asshole,” Stiles muttered, pretending he was talking about the dust that clogged his throat, and not the fact that Derek had called him a liability. “Asshole werewolf. Ass wolf. I’ll show you.”

~*~*~*~

Lydia showed up Sunday morning. Stiles came down the stairs when his dad called up to him, still blinking sleep out of his eyes. He froze when he saw Lydia standing just inside the front door, wondering if he should go back upstairs and change out of the oldest pair of pajamas he owned (which he’d put on last night because they were also the most comfortable), or at least brush his teeth.

“Nice pajamas,” Lydia said, making the decision for him.

Stiles stroked his hand over the faded embossed photo of the Power Rangers. “I’ll have you know that the Power Rangers were the shit when I was ten.”

Lydia’s only response was to say, “Exactly,” and raise an eyebrow.

“So,” Stiles said, because he was incapable of not filling a silence, “not that your visit isn’t giving past me heart palpitations . . .”

Lydia’s silence turned judge-y.

“Alright, maybe current me as well, a little bit. But what are you doing here?”

“I wondered if you wanted to go see a movie with me.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped. “You want to go to the movies with me?”

“Yes, Stiles.”

“What about Jackson?” Stiles said. “I thought you two were . . .” Stiles stopped himself before saying ‘joined at the hip again’. “. . . working things out.”

Lydia’s bottom lip trembled once before firming up. “Jackson and his parents left for London this morning.”

“Oh, no,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “That joke just makes itself. For the whole summer?”

“For the foreseeable future,” Lydia said.

“What?”

“Jackson’s parents were afraid he’d gotten in with a bad crowd,” Lydia said.

Stiles thought about Matt and Gerard. “Well, to be fair, they weren’t wrong.”

Lydia’s glare was kind of frightening.

“Jackson’s gone and Allison’s gone, so I’m your third choice?”

“Danny’s busy.”

Stiles fake laughed even though he wasn’t sure Lydia was joking.

“Do you want to go or not?”

“It’s a little early,” Stiles hedged, “but sure. Come have a seat while I get dressed.”

“We can have breakfast, then do some shopping before the movie,” Lydia said.

“Sounds great.” It wasn’t a complete lie; breakfast sounded good.

They went to the diner, where Stiles unintentionally insulted Lydia when he looked surprised and explained, “You don’t look like the diner type.”

“Everyone is the diner type,” Lydia said. “Besides, today calls for extra grease. And chocolate.”

Shopping meant looking for clothes for Stiles because, according to Lydia, “I already have a great wardrobe.”

Lydia refused to see a romance or superhero movie (even though Stiles tried to convince her that she’d really like Jane and Darcy), which is how Stiles ended up seeing ‘Bridesmaids’. Afterwards Lydia suggested they get a late lunch. Having already spent more time with him in one morning than she’d done in her entire life, Stiles figured that meant she just really didn’t want to be alone.

“Wanna learn how to kill zombies?” Stiles said when Lydia dropped him off at home after lunch. “It’s a great stress-reliever. Plus, you could pretend they’re Jackson.”

Lydia gave Stiles a withering look.

“Too soon? His parents, then. Or Harris.” Which was what Stiles often did.

Either Lydia _really_ didn’t want to be alone, or just wanted to kill a lot of zombies.

~*~*~*~

Deputy Tara Graeme gave Stiles a long look when he showed up at the Sheriff Department on Monday morning. “Good morning,” she said. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here for my usual summer fling of filing,” Stiles said.

“Your name?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Stiles.”

Tara picked up the phone and buzzed the Sheriff’s office. “Sir, there’s someone out here, says he’s here for a summer job.” After a pause she said, “Says his name is Stiles, but I don’t recognize him.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Funny.”

A moment later his dad appeared and also gave Stiles a once over. “Hello, son,” Dad said. “That’s a nice shirt you’re wearing. One Lydia got you?”

“Ooooh!” Tara said.

Stiles gave her a look that only made her grin.

“Yes,” Stiles told his dad. “But that’s not why I’m wearing it.”

Dad raised his eyebrows.

“All my other shirts were dirty.”

“Ah, okay, I recognize you now.”

“You guys are hilarious,” Stiles said as Dad and Tara shared a look.

Dad left Stiles with Tara to sign the usual paperwork before he could start. That out of the way they set him up at the front desk to answer phones and assist people who walked in. It was Stiles’ least favorite thing to do because some of the people who came in were real assholes, but since the personnel shortage was partly his fault because they didn’t stop Matt and Jackson before they could attack the Sheriff Department, Stiles didn’t complain. Too much. It was also helpful that Stiles had access to the computer sitting on the desk.

Stiles was so busy that morning that he didn’t have a chance to look up Boyd and Erica’s missing persons files, but he’d agreed to work every morning that week instead of just Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Stiles hoped Tuesday wasn’t as busy.

Stiles sat in his Jeep eating curly fries and thought about the list he’d hidden under the keyboard on his desk. He’d learned nothing new about Boyd and Erica – he hadn’t been able to check their files, his first foray into the Preserve hadn’t provided any clues, and no one he’d talked to while handing out fliers had seen or heard anything. It was frustrating, but Stiles could only continue handing out fliers and hope that someone would have some information.

Stiles had tabled the matter of Gerard, but he mentally added an asterisk to that line item. Even if Allison could be trusted, Gerard couldn’t be.

That left the matter of the alpha that had bitten Victoria Argent. If it hadn’t been Derek, then there had to be another alpha in Beacon Hills. The werewolf could’ve been passing through, maybe been sighted by the gang of hunters Gerard had commanded, which would explain why they’d attacked a hunter.

Stiles hadn’t heard of a sighting or a fight, but maybe he wouldn’t have. If there had been, it was possible the alpha was killed. It was even possible its entire pack – because an alpha needed a pack – had been killed. Stiles didn’t even want to imagine Gerard and his flunkies massacring an entire pack. Still, wasn’t that the same thing Kate had done to the Hales? Then the torture of Boyd and Erica.

So much for the hunters following a Code.

~*~

“Has there ever been another pack in Beacon Hills?” Stiles said.

Deaton’s hand didn’t falter as he refilled the medicine cabinet in one of the exam rooms, and then locked it. “Why do you ask?”

Stiles bit back an exasperated sigh. He’d once been told that you got further with honey than with being a sarcastic asshole. The jury was still out. “I feel like you get a lot more information than you give during these exchanges.”

Deaton merely raised an eyebrow.

“Uh uh,” Stiles said. “I’m not going to fall for that whole ‘fill the silence’ thing and start spilling my guts.”

Deaton gave Stiles a look.

“With anything substantive,” Stiles clarified. He gestured between them. “Quid pro quo. You answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

“Fine,” Deaton said. “Yes.”

Stiles gave a ‘well?’ flail.

“That’s my answer.”

“Do you mind being a little more specific?”

Deaton calmly continued with his work.

“Of course you do,” Stiles said. “Your picture is probably in the dictionary next to ‘enigmatic’. And also ‘unhelpful’.” Stiles took a breath. “Okay, to answer your question, I’m trying to solve a mystery. Now it’s my turn to ask.”

Deaton looked the slightest bit perturbed.

“It’s no fun, is it?” Stiles said. “Okay, my second question, is the pack still in Beacon Hills?”

“Yes. What mystery?”

“Like, alive and thriving, not decimated by hunters?” Stiles said.

This time Deaton did stoop what he was doing to look at Stiles. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Which question do you want me to answer?”

Deaton clenched his jaw. “The latter.”

“Because we just had a group of hunters in town and I thought they might have attacked a pack while they were here. My question: Can you put me in contact with their alpha?”

“Why?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I could, if I think you have a good reason for asking,” Deaton said.

“Okay. I think he can help me solve my mystery. My question: Will you?”

“No.”

Stiles goggled.

“This pack keeps a very low profile. But I will contact the alpha myself to see if they’re willing to meet with you.”

Stiles wasn’t happy with this compromise because he didn’t trust Deaton as much as Scott obviously did, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. There wasn’t anyone else he could ask – Derek might know, but he didn’t want Stiles involved in werewolf business so he was unlikely to be forthcoming.

“Fine,” Stiles agreed.

Before he could leave, Deaton said, “I believe I get one more question.”

“Of course,” Stiles said, gritting his teeth.

“What’s the mystery?”

“Who bit Victoria Argent,” Stiles said.

Deaton couldn’t hide his surprise.

“Is that answer worth another question?”

Deaton gave Stiles a look.

“No, then?”

Before he left, Stiles tacked a flier to the bulletin board in the waiting room.

~*~*~*~

The next morning Stiles was given the task of scanning documents (like sketches and hand-written statements) into the computer and attaching them to the correct file between phone calls and walk-ins. It gave him the opportunity to pull up Boyd’s and Erica’s files without anyone wondering what he was doing.

Unfortunately, there was very little information in the files. They’d talked to the families and checked out the bus and train stations and put out a BOLO, but they’d had very little success. Of course they wouldn’t, because they didn’t know about werewolves and hunters, and Stiles wanted to keep it that way.

After his shift Stiles was going to hand out more fliers, but at this point he didn’t know what good it would do. He’d already covered all the streets near the Argent house and along the route to the Hale house. Nobody he’d spoken to had seen or heard anything. It was unlikely that anyone further away from that area would know anything.

Still, the least he could do was to post the fliers at the businesses along Main Street. Stiles decided to start at the deli just down the street from the Sheriff Department, where he’d get lunch before hitting the other businesses. Stiles was enjoying a pastrami on rye when someone sat in the chair across from him. Stiles raised his gaze from his phone and took note of the Asian woman who appeared to be about fifty years old.

“Hello?” Stiles said, looking around the deli to see if she belonged with someone else.

“Hello, Stiles,” the woman said.

Stiles’ gaze jerked back to her. “How do you know my name?”

“Alan Deaton said you wanted to speak with me.”

Stiles’ eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “You . . . Are you . . . ?”

“My name is Satomi,” the woman said. “Satomi Ito.”

Stiles leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “You’re a . . . you know?”

Satomi looked amused. “I am.”

Stiles leaned back. “Prove it.”

“Why would I be here if I wasn’t?”

“You could be a hunter trying to figure out what I know.”

“What do you know?” Satomi said.

Stiles shoulders slumped. “Hell if I know.”

Satomi glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to them, then flashed red eyes at Stiles.

Stiles gave a drawn out, “Whoa. That never gets old.”

“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” Satomi indicated the pile of fliers.

“No,” Stiles said. “I mean, unless you know something?”

“I’m afraid I never saw them,” Satomi said, “and I don’t know where they are now.”

“So they didn’t run off to join your pack?”

“No. They wouldn’t have even known we were here.”

“Why not?” Stiles said, intrigued.

“A story for another day, I think. I believe you were looking for an alpha?”

“Not just any alpha,” Stiles said. “The alpha who bit Victoria Argent.”

“Why? Would you turn them in?”

“I . . . hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Stiles said. “I was just trying to prove that Derek _didn’t_ do it.”

“Derek Hale?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“I knew his mother,” Satomi said. “Why do you believe that Derek didn’t bite this Victoria Argent?”

“Because Derek said he didn’t,” Stiles said. “Derek’s an asshole, er, sorry, a tool most of the time, but he wouldn’t lie about that, especially since he thinks the bite is a gift and he wouldn’t have bestowed it on Victoria Argent, of all people, and even if he did do it, it would’ve been in self-defense, or well, defense of someone.”

“Self-defense?”

“Victoria was trying to kill my BFF Scott because he was dating her daughter Allison.”

“And your friend Scott is a werewolf?”

“Yeah. He was bitten by Peter Hale, but that’s probably also a story for another time.”

“Very well,” Satomi said. “I can tell you that I did not bite Victoria Argent.”

Stiles sighed. “That’s good,” he said. “I mean, crossing things off is important when looking for answers.” He glanced at Satomi. “I don’t suppose you know who _did_ bite Victoria Argent?”

Satomi hesitated. “Not for certain.”

Stiles sat up straight and leaned towards Satomi. “But you have an idea,” he said hopefully.

~*~

Stiles slammed open the front door of the Hale house. The house being completely, eerily empty, even when Stiles tiptoed through and looked out the back door, made the gesture anti-climactic. In fact, it looked like Derek wasn’t even living there anymore. Which, good. It was a step up from an abandoned train depot, but it was still creepy as hell.

Stiles stomped back out to the Jeep and called Scott. “Where’s Derek living now?” Stiles demanded when Scott answered.

“How would I know?”

“You’re hanging out with Isaac.”

“We don’t talk about Derek,” Scott said.

“I can’t imagine why,” Stiles muttered. “Can you call him and find out?”

Scott gave Stiles Isaac’s number and made Stiles ask himself. Isaac hung up on Stiles, but texted a number a few seconds later. Stiles called the number, expecting Derek to answer. “I thought this was Derek’s number,” Stiles said when creepy Uncle Peter answered instead.

“Oh, it is,” Peter said. “Derek was too busy to answer.”

Stiles heard something in the background, which was probably Derek yelling at Peter for answering the call. “I’m sure he was.”

“What can I do for you, Stiles?”

Stiles shuddered. “Don’t make it sound so gross.”

Peter laughed. “I like you, Stiles.”

“Awesome. Where is Derek living now? Please.”

Peter rattled off an address before there was more yelling and the call ended. Derek could be out the window already, but Stiles gunned the Jeep’s engine and headed for the address Peter had given him in the warehouse district. The building didn’t look like much from the outside, and wasn’t much better on the inside.

Stile got winded running up the stairs. He had to give himself a moment to catch his breath before pushing open the sliding door. The first person Stiles saw when he stepped into the loft was Derek, standing behind a table with his arms crossed and a constipated expression on his face.

Peter was sitting on a spiral staircase and Isaac on a couch. “You’re here?” Stiles said.

Isaac gave Stiles a feral grin.

Stiles turned around and shoved the sliding door closed. “That’s much less satisfying than slamming a door.”

“What do you want, Stiles?”

Derek’s tone helped Stiles remember why he was so angry. “An alpha pack?” he said. “An entire pack of freaking alphas?”

Derek barely moved, but the air around him filled with tension.

“So you did know. Why didn’t you tell me about them when I told you that Allison thought you were the alpha who bit her mother?”

“Because I don’t know that they had anything to do with it,” Derek said.

“An entire pack of alphas – how does that work, anyway? – shows up and someone gets bitten and you’re not sure they had anything to do with it?”

Derek remained silent, but his raised eyebrow spoke volumes. It basically said, go away and don’t ask any more questions. Which wasn’t unusual – people often wanted Stiles to go away – but this felt different. Stiles studied each of them in turn. Isaac wouldn’t look at Stiles, possibly afraid he’d give something way. Peter, on the other hand, looked expectant, as if he was waiting for Stiles to figure it, whatever _it_ was, out.

Stiles moved down the steps and away from the door. His mind was whirling as he tried to piece everything together. “Why are they here?” Stiles said.

“They probably heard that the Hale pack has returned,” Derek said.

Not a lie. “So they can, what, vet you? Have you spoken to any of them?”

“No.”

Also not a lie, but something.

“Have they spoken to you?” Derek’s face did something and Stiles quickly amended his question. “Have you heard from them at all?”

“Yes.”

Stiles waited, then threw out his hands.

Derek sighed. “They left a . . . message for me,” he said sourly.

What kind of message?”

“A symbol,” Peter said.

“Can you draw it?” Stiles said, directing the question to Derek.

Derek reached for a pen and Stiles crossed the room. He looked at the paper when Derek was done.

“What do you think they want?” Stiles said as he studied the symbol.

“I don’t know,” Derek said.

Not a lie, exactly, but not the complete truth, either. “What do you know about them? I mean, if you know they exist, you must’ve heard something.”

Derek remained stubbornly silent.

“Fine,” Stiles said, though it wasn’t fine at all. “I’ll just keep asking questions of my sources. Maybe it’ll get back to this alpha pack and then I can talk to them directly.”

“No!” Derek said.

Even Peter and Isaac looked worried, which freaked Stiles the fuck out. Stiles crossed his arms to mirror Derek and waited. Derek was way better at remaining silent than Stiles was. Also, his brain was running full speed ahead.

“So, if they’re a pack of alphas . . . What happened to each of their packs?”

“They killed all of their betas and took their power,” Peter said.

“Peter,” Derek snapped, but Peter didn’t look the slightest bit cowed.

“They killed their own packs?” Stiles said, horrified. “But that’s . . .”

“Unnatural?” Peter supplied.

Stiles ignored him. “What could make an alpha kill their own pack?”

“The desire for more power,” Derek said.

“Okay.” Stiles swallowed down bile and took a few deep breaths. “That makes me want to throw up.” He forced his brain to move on. “So, to add to their elite pack they need to find another alpha and have him or her kill their pack to power up.”

“Yes,” Derek said.

A lightbulb went off. “Is that why they’re in Beacon Hills? They want you to kill your pack and join them?”

Derek gave Stiles a stoic glare.

“But . . . you wouldn’t do that.”

Derek’s glare softened the slightest bit.

“Okay, not to be insulting or anything, but _why_ do they want you to join their pack? I mean, if they took just any ol’ alpha there wouldn’t be any packs left and you’ve barely been an alpha for a hot minute. What’s so special about you, besides the obvious?” Stiles tore his eyes away from Derek’s arms and the glare was back in full force.

Someone snorted. Stiles thought it was Isaac, but he didn’t want to look away from Derek before he got an answer out of him.

“Talia could shift into a full-wolf form,” Peter said.

Stiles’ jaw dropped and he looked at Peter full on for the first time. His expression was one of bittersweet nostalgia.

“She was magnificent.”

Stiles couldn’t stand to look at Peter anymore so he turned back to Derek. “Can you do that?”

Derek continued to glare, but shook his head.

“But you have the potential.” Stiles didn’t wait for Derek to confirm it. “They’re collecting alphas with special abilities. Shit, what do we do? Can you just tell them, thanks, but no thanks?”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Peter said.

“ _We_ don’t do anything,” Derek growled. “You go home and forget about it.”

“Absolutely not!” Stiles barked a laugh. “I mean, it’s like you don’t even know me at all. So we work together and pool information, or I continue to go it alone, your choice.” Stiles said the words lightly, but it pinched his chest a little bit that he didn’t have Scott by his side like he usually did, and that Derek thought he was a liability.

“He’s got you there, nephew,” Peter said.

“Fine,” Derek ground out. “What have you found out?”

“Awesome!” Stiles grinned, then it dimmed. “Uh, well, not much, actually.”

Derek growled.

“Calm down, grumpy wolf, I didn’t have all the information, did I? I canvassed the houses on the street route from Argents’ house to the house in the Preserve, but no one I talked to saw or heard anything unusual. I also checked the Sheriff Department files, but there was nothing helpful in there.”

“How’d you do that?” Peter said.

“I’m working at the Sheriff Department for the summer, filing and answering phones and stuff. They’re a little short-staffed after . . .”

“The kanima,” Peter said and, for some reason, shuddered.

“I flagged the files to let me know if anyone updated them.”

“Good thinking,” Peter said. “It’ll probably come to nothing, but . . .”

“Yeah, they’re thinking runaways, not werewolves and hunters,” Stiles said, “but we might learn something. And I obviously tried walking a path I thought Boyd and Erica might’ve taken through the Preserve, but I didn’t see anything, unless you count Derek lurking behind a tree.”

“That’s it?” Derek said.

Granted, Stiles hadn’t discovered anything, but he’d been _doing_ things. “Yeah, that’s it, ass wolf.”

Derek’s eyebrows went up. Peter and Isaac both made choked off noises.

“Wait, no, I also spoke to Deaton, who put me in touch with Satomi.”

“Satomi?” Derek said.

“Yeah, Satomi Ito. She said she . . .”

“She was friends with Talia,” Peter said. “She’s still in Beacon Hills?”

“Yes?” Stiles said. “You couldn’t tell there was another pack of werewolves in Beacon Hills?”

“Satomi mastered the ability to . . . inhibit her scent, which makes it impossible to track her, or to even identify her as a werewolf,” Peter said.

“That’s possible?” Stiles said. “Okay, but what about the rest of her pack?”

“She taught them the ability,” Peter said.

“That is so cool,” Stiles said, “but not important right now. Wait, can you guys do that?”

“No,” Derek said sourly.

“But the alpha pack can,” Isaac said.

“Which is why we haven’t been able to find them,” Peter casually added, completing the picture by studying his nails.

“Okay,” Stiles said. “I can see why you’d want to know where they are so you can be prepared for them to make a move, but isn’t finding Boyd and Erica the more pressing concern?”

“Yes,” Derek said.

“I know you can talk in full sentences,” Stiles said. “Gonna make me figure it out?”

When Derek didn’t respond, Stiles continued. “Okay, Boyd and Erica are more important, but you’re trying to track the alpha pack anyway because . . .” Stiles paced and chewed on the corner of his thumbnail. “Because finding them will help you find Boyd and Erica.”

From Derek’s reaction Stiles knew he was close. “Because . . .” Stiles’ eyes widened. “Because the alpha pack _has_ Boyd and Erica!”

“Very good.” Peter slow-clapped while Derek scowled. “I told you we could use Stiles’ unique way of thinking.”

“Thanks, I think,” Stiles said. “But why? Why would they take Boyd and Erica?”

“We don’t know what they’re going to do with them,” Peter said, “but they must have a plan.”

“For what?”

“To force my hand,” Derek said, finally contributing to the discussion.

“To make you kill them,” Stiles said. “They know you wouldn’t do so willingly, so they’re going to make it so you _have_ to kill them. Jesus.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Argents and Deaton are unhelpful, Peter is still creepy, Morrell has a surprise revelation, Danny is done with everyone, Lydia is brilliant, Melissa has an ultimatum, Isaac wears scarfs during summer, and Stiles tries to keep his dad out of all the supernatural crap.

The First Week of Summer Vacation: Wednesday – Friday

Stiles texted Allison that evening. _what do u know about an alpha pack_ It was, like, two am in France so Stiles didn’t expect an answer right away. Or ever, really. It wasn’t as if the Argents had any reason to help them. Still, when there was no message from Allison when he woke the next morning Stiles sent another message that might get her attention. _i think they have boyd & erica & bit your mother_

After work the next day Stiles returned to the Animal Clinic. “What do you know about an alpha pack?” he asked Deaton.

“Why do you ask?” Deaton said after a beat, which Stiles only caught because he was looking closely for his reaction.

“What did we learn the other day?” Stiles said.

Deaton gave him a blank look.

“Give and take, quid pro quo . . .” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll go first. Again. I think there’s one in Beacon Hills.”

“What makes you think that?”

Stiles crossed his arms and gave Deaton a stern look, channeling Derek.

“I’ve heard of an alpha pack,” Deaton said, “but I’m afraid I don’t know much about it.”

Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to sense the lie, but something made him keep that information to himself. “Can you look into it?”

“Of course,” Deaton said.

~*~

“Why is Deaton so unhelpful?” Stiles said when he let himself into the loft.

“He wasn’t always,” Peter said.

Stiles looked around the loft. “Where’s Derek?”

“Hello to you, too, Stiles.”

Stiles ignored that. “What do you mean, he wasn’t always?”

“Alan Deaton was Talia’s emissary.”

“What’s an emissary?”

Peter explained about druids and how each pack had one. “For their knowledge of lore and herbs and such.”

“I asked him about the alpha pack.”

“And what did he say?” Peter said in a tone that didn’t quite hide his interest in the answer.

“He said he didn’t know much about it.”

Peter snorted. “He knows more than most; he was there when they were created.”

“What?”

Peter told Stiles about the peace talks, about the massacre and Deucalion being blinded, about Deucalion’s second attempting to take advantage of the perceived weakness and kill him, only to be killed himself.

“He went mad with the power and killed his entire pack, then convinced Ennis and Kali to do the same.”

“That . . . that’s horrifying.”

“Yes,” Peter said, but he seemed more interested in Stiles’ reaction.

“I couldn’t figure out why one of them would bite Victoria Argent,” Stiles said. “I thought maybe to create chaos, which, maybe that was a side benefit, but it was revenge against the Argents for what happened back then, it had to be.” Stiles looked at Peter. “Do you think they came to Beacon Hills because they heard the Argents were here? Or wait, that _Gerard_ was here, because he didn’t show up until after, well, Kate. And then Derek was just a bonus?”

“Does it matter which came first?”

“I guess not,” Stiles said, but his brain was spinning.

~*~

When Stiles still hadn’t heard from Allison that evening he sent a third text. _ask your dad about deucalion_

Stiles’ phone rang at ten o’clock. “I could’ve been sleeping,” he said when he answered the call.

“But you’re not,” Chris Argent said.

“I’m not.” Stiles minimized Chrome, hiding the tabs he’d opened while falling down the rabbit hole of alpha packs and druids and emissaries, as if Argent would be able to see them through the phone. “I’m a little busy trying to figure out why an alpha pack would kidnap Boyd and Erica. So. What do you know?”

“As far as I know there’s only one alpha pack,” Argent said. “But that’s bad enough.”

“Did you ever try to hunt them?”

“They’ve been the holy grail of werewolf hunts for the past six or seven years.”

“Six or seven years?” Stiles said.

“The peace talks took place in November 2004,” Argent filled in.

“That’s just a couple months before the fire. Is it connected?”

“I don’t know.”

“What _do_ you know?” Stiles said.

“They’re very powerful,” Argent said, not rising to the bait. “Individually, but also as a pack.”

“Because having a pack makes you stronger.”

“Yes. They’re hard to find, but when they surface they leave devastation in their wake.”

“They’re in Beacon Hills,” Stiles said. “And they’ve targeted Derek.”

“What do you expect me to do about that?”

“I expect you to help clean up your family’s mess. Messes. Gerard’s the reason they even exist, and also the reason they were able to capture Boyd and Erica.”

“They would’ve grabbed Boyd and Erica anyway,” Argent said.

Stiles couldn’t punch Argent through the phone, so he forced down his anger at the cavalier tone and continued his questioning. “You’re a werewolf hunter; how would you stop them?”

“I’d lure them somewhere and shoot them full of wolfsbane bullets,” Argent said.

“We don’t have any wolfsbane bullets, and we don’t know anyone who has them. Oh, wait, yes we do.”

“I’m not bringing Allison back to Beacon Hills right now.”

“Maybe she’d like to go after the _actual_ werewolves who bit her mother instead of a bunch of teenagers.”

Argent ended the call and Stiles had no idea how much of that he’d heard.

~*~*~*~

Stiles went to Derek’s loft again after work on Thursday. Derek’s perpetual expression of annoyance deepened and Isaac rolled his eyes, as if Stiles was more hindrance than help. Peter smiled and put his feet up on one of the two crates that served as a coffee table, settling in for the show.

“Don’t look so happy to see me, snarly wolf. You knew I’d be coming so put away your constipated face. Besides, I brought food.” Stiles indicated the two take-out bags he carried.

Isaac’s nose went up and Stiles bit back the urge to comment on it. “Curly fries?” Isaac said hopefully.

Stiles held out one bag and Isaac eagerly snatched it out of his hand.

“It’s not safe,” Derek growled.

“Safe went out the window when Scott got bit,” Stiles said.

“It’s not safe around _me_ ,” Derek said.

“You mean because the alpha pack is gunning for you?”

“Yes.”

“What about these guys?” Stiles gestured with a sweep of his arm.

“I told Isaac to leave.”

Stiles looked at Isaac as if to say, and yet he’s still here. “And what did Isaac say?”

“Isaac said ‘fuck off, Derek’,” Isaac said.

Stiles held out his hand for a fist bump. Isaac gave Stiles’ fist a look. “You’re eating my curly fries,” Stiles reminded him.

Isaac gave Stiles a reluctant fist bump and retreated to the couch with the bag.

“Say this alpha pack does succeed in forcing you to kill your pack. What then? Are they just gonna leave, or are they going to look for the alpha who taught her entire pack how to hide their scent? That would be on me because I told you she’s still here. And what about Scott? Would they leave a lone wolf alive? Or my dad! Bodies start showing up and he’s going to be in the middle of it.

“I’m staying,” Stiles said. “I would do anything to keep my dad safe.” He was breathing hard after spilling all that, so Stiles opened the bag and pulled out a couple burgers and packages of curly fries. “While we’re eating you can tell me what you guys have been doing.”

Once Stiles had told him that the Argents had captured Boyd and Erica, Derek had tried to track them from the house, but their scent was all but gone after a week.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said. “I should’ve told you earlier, but I thought they’d come back and were skipping school because they were . . . recovering.”

“It’s not your fault,” Derek said. “I didn’t look for them at first because I thought they’d left.”

“What do you mean?”

“They were scared,” Derek said. “Of Gerard and his hunters. They didn’t want to die.”

“So they were leaving-leaving,” Stiles said. “And Gerard got them anyway. I really hate that guy.”

Derek had done the same thing Stiles tried to do and followed the likely paths Boyd and Erica might’ve taken if they were returning to the house. “There were signs of a struggle,” Derek said.

Stiles sat up straight. “Okay, good, but how do you know that wasn’t where Gerard got them?”

“They weren’t heading that way when they were leaving.”

“Alright,” Stiles said. “But that means the alpha pack was watching. They were keeping an eye on you, or on Gerard. Which is why you moved,” Stiles realized. “They could be out there right now without us knowing.”

“Still wanna stick around?” Derek said.

“Those fuckers might’ve seen me that night and instead of helping Boyd and Erica escape Gerard, they kidnapped them and are holding them because they want you to kill them. Damn right I’m sticking around.”

Derek showed Stiles their search pattern. A transparent sheet of plastic with a grid marked on it overlaid a map of Beacon Hills – the Hale house, the Argent house, and a spot in the Preserve that must be where Derek found signs of a struggle were marked with large red ‘X’s.

About fifty squares had been shaded in, which left hundreds more to search. “Crap,” Stiles said. “That’s a lot of area to cover.”

Stiles pulled at his hair and moved away from the table so he could pace. Something was niggling at him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Isaac held out a bag of Doritos and Stiles stuck his hand in as he passed him. “Why do you think they’re still in the Preserve?”

“We don’t think they’re anywhere in particular,” Peter said. “We needed to start somewhere and that was the logical place.”

“Yes.” Stiles gestured with the last chip before popping it into his mouth. “They probably knew you’d think that. In fact, they probably _wanted_ you to think that. But in the Preserve you’d have the advantage. You both grew up here; you probably know the Preserve better than anyone. They’d be at a disadvantage there.”

“But making sure we search the area buys them time,” Peter said.

Derek growled. “Then where are they?”

Stiles looked at the grid squares covering the rest of Beacon Hills. “They could be anywhere.”

“No they couldn’t,” Isaac said. He shrunk a little bit when three pairs of eyes turned to him. “An alpha pack with two captives are probably not staying in a condo or someplace where they have a lot of neighbors.”

Stiles pointed at Isaac. “More curly fries for Isaac!” When Stiles held out his fist this time Isaac didn’t hesitate to bump it.

“So we’re looking for abandoned buildings where two werewolves can’t escape and two people calling for help can’t be heard,” Stiles said, adding at their looks, “What, you don’t think Boyd and Erica would be trying to escape and yelling their heads off?”

“Unless they couldn’t,” Isaac said.

Stiles frowned. “No curly fries for Isaac.”

After lots of back and forth it was determined that the most likely place for the alpha pack to hide out would be in an abandoned warehouse in the industrial area. Ironically, right in Derek’s new backyard.

~*~*~*~

The next day Stiles asked if anyone knew what the alpha pack looked like. He’d been lying in bed when he realized that they had to eat, so unless they preferred bunnies they had to go to the grocery store. Out for coffee. To the library. It was possible that Stiles had walked right past one or more of them without knowing it. The thought that they might’ve recognized him from the night Gerard took him while he was in the dark about who they were freaked Stiles right the hell out.

Peter, because he’d been a sneaky bastard, had seen the three alphas that attended the peace conference, though after six and a half years he was only able to give a vague description of them.

“What about Deaton?” Stiles said. “Would he know?”

“As Talia’s emissary he probably would’ve met the other alphas.”

~*~

“I knew you were lying,” Stiles said, “but I didn’t know enough to know _what_ you were lying about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stiles,” Deaton said.

“Hard to keep track of all your lies?” Stiles said. “You were there during the peace talks between Deucalion and Gerard, back when the alpha pack was formed.” Stiles paused a moment to let Deaton wonder how he knew that. “Because you were Talia Hale’s emissary.”

“I told you he was clever,” said a voice that sounded familiar.

Stiles turned to see the school’s guidance counselor leaning casually against the door frame. “Ms. Morrell? What are you doing here?”

“If anyone asks, just visiting my brother,” Morrell said.

Stiles looked between Deaton and Morrell. “Brother?”

Morrell pinned Stiles with a look. “You never saw me.”

Stiles shook his head.

“What’s your number?”

“My what?”

“Your phone number, Stiles,” Morrell said.

Stiles rattled off the number and Morrell typed it into her own phone. A moment later Stiles’ phone buzzed.

“Save the photo. Delete the text.”

“Okay.”

Morrell waited.

“Oh, you mean right now?” Stiles fumbled open the text. He looked at the photo. “This is them? There’s only five? I thought there’d be more.”

“There were,” Morrell said. “There’s been some . . . attrition.”

“So they can be killed,” Stiles said. Morrell’s expression told Stiles nothing. “Or . . . What aren’t you saying?”

“Killing your own pack gives you a taste for the power,” Morrell said. “If killing betas does that for you, how much more of a rush to kill an alpha?”

“Just when I think they can’t get more twisted,” Stiles said. “How did you get this?”

“I took it,” Morrell said. “Without their knowledge, of course.”

“Of course. How did you manage to get this close?”

“Every pack needs an emissary.”

“I thought they killed their emissaries.”

“They did,” Morrell said. “That’s why they need me. For now.”

~*~

Stiles returned to Derek’s loft.

“Did you bring more food?” Isaac said.

“I’m not bringing you food every time I come over,” Stiles said. “Give me your phone number.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Unless you don’t want me to send you a copy of the photo I have of the alpha pack.”

The three of them began moving and talking at the same time. Stiles held up his hand. “Numbers first. Even Peter.”

Stiles got the numbers keyed in and sent a group text. Three phones buzzed and they all studied the photo.

“That’s Deucalion, Ennis, and Kali,” Peter said. “I don’t know who the other two are.”

“Aiden and Ethan,” Stiles said.

“How do you know that?” Peter said.

“Where did you get the photo from?” Derek said.

“The answer to both questions is the same.” Stiles had made the decision on the way over. “But I can only tell Derek.”

“Why?” Isaac demanded.

“Because I promised not to tell anyone,” Stiles said. “But it might be important, so I have to tell someone in case . . .”

Peter studied Stiles, then Derek. He turned to Isaac. “Let’s go for a run.”

Isaac groaned, but he followed Peter out of the loft. Derek’s eyes went distant, then he nodded to Stiles.

Stiles told Derek about running into Ms. Morrell at the Animal Clinic, and also about his conversation with Chris Argent a couple nights before.

“I wish you hadn’t deleted that text,” Derek said. “Your friend Danny could hack into her phone.”

“Uhm,” Stiles said.

~*~

“No,” Danny said. “Not even if your ‘cousin’ Miguel takes off his shirt again.”

“I wasn’t going to . . . It’s for a good cause.”

“No.”

“It’ll help us find Boyd and Erica,” Stiles said. “Maybe.”

“I’ve already helped you once.”

“Yes, yes you did, and your help was very much appreciated.” Stiles said, then held his breath.

Danny sighed. “Fine. What do you need?”

Stiles’ breath exploded out of him. “You won’t be sorry!”

“I’m already sorry, and I haven’t said yes, yet.”

“We need you to hack someone’s phone records so we can see who’s calling her.”

“You think this person has Boyd and Erica?”

“No. We think someone who will call her has them. I probably shouldn’t tell you more than that. For your own safety.”

“Uh huh,” Danny said. “Alright, let me into your computer.” At Stiles’ look he said, “I’m not doing this on mine where it might leave a trail.”

“I thought you were good.”

“If you don’t want my help . . .”

“No, no!”

It took Danny ten minutes to get into Ms. Morrell’s phone records.

“How’d you do that so fast?” Stiles said, looking over Danny’s shoulder.

“They spend more time trying to protect their clients’ financial data, which leaves some back doors open. And no, I’m not going to tell you what they are.”

“Rude,” Stiles said.

“I’m leaving now,” Danny said. “I don’t want to know what you do with this information. And seriously, Stiles, lose my number.”

“Alright, wait,” Stiles said, catching Danny before he left. “Listen, there’s a pack of some, uh, guys in town.”

“Like a gang?”

“Just like.” Stiles showed the photo to Danny. “If you see them, steer clear. And maybe call me and let me know.”

Danny stared intently at the photo. “Bad guys, I take it.”

“The baddest.”

Danny sighed and handed the photo back to Stiles. “I’ve met one of them.”

“What?”

Danny pointed out one of the twins.

“How do you know . . . ? Never mind. Where?”

“At the pool. The community pool,” Danny explained when Stiles gave him a questioning look. “I work there during the summer. Life guard.”

“And this guy . . .”

“Ethan.”

“. . . just showed up?”

“A couple times now,” Danny said. “First time he just looked. Second time he said hi. Third time he struck up a conversation. We’re supposed to go for coffee tomorrow before work.”

“Shit,” Stiles said. “Shit.”

“Should I cancel?”

“No!” Stiles said. “I mean, yes, yes! For your own safety you should absolutely cancel.”

“But?”

~*~

“What’s he doing here?” Derek said.

“Danny, this is Derek Hale, creepy Uncle Peter, and Isaac. Everyone, this is Danny, who just helped us hack into, uh, someone’s phone. And who also has a coffee date with Ethan tomorrow morning.”

“What?” Derek said. “He needs to cancel and stay away from him.”

“Or he could _not_ do that,” Stiles said.

“I’m standing right here,” Danny said, “and I can’t stay away from him if he continues to come to the pool.”

“I’m going to be sorry I asked this, but what’s your idea?” Derek said.

“Danny goes on that date and we clone Ethan’s phone.”

“No,” Derek said.

“We’ll know everywhere he goes and everyone he talks to.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“He could lead us right to Boyd and Erica,” Stiles said.

Derek, speechless, shook his head.

“I know it’s dangerous,” Stiles said. “Danny knows it’s dangerous. He also knows about werewolves, apparently.”

Danny shrugged. “It’s Beacon Hills.”

 

The Second Week of Summer Vacation: Saturday – Monday

Stiles entered the café and walked directly to the counter. “I need caffeine stat,” he said to no one. Stiles ordered a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. He paid and collected the coffee, then turned and surveyed the room for an empty table. Stiles saw Danny and one of the twins – Ethan according to Danny, though Stiles still couldn’t tell them apart – sitting at a table near the back.

Stiles approached them. “Hey, Danny.”

“No,” Danny said.

“No what?”

“No to whatever it is you’re going to say.”

“Oh, well, I was just going to say hi. Hey,” Stiles said to Ethan. “I’m handing out fliers . . .” Stiles dug into his messenger bag and pulled out a flier, laid it on the table by Danny. “. . . for Boyd’s grandmother.”

“I saw this at school.” Danny pushed the flier aside.

“Yeah, well, it’s good to remind people so they don’t forget.” Stiles handed a second flier to Ethan.

Ethan glanced at the flier. “They’re missing?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “For about four weeks now.”

“Too bad,” Ethan said, sounding genuinely concerned. “The world’s a scary place these days.”

“It really is,” Stiles said.

Just then Stiles’ name was called. He said goodbye and went to get his sandwich.

“Who was that?” Ethan said loud enough for Stiles to hear.

“That was just Stilinski,” Danny said. “Some guy from school.”

Stiles found a table near Danny and Ethan and pretended to play on his phone while he ate the sandwich. Instead he watched the numbers climb on the burner phone until they reached 100%. Stiles went up to the counter for a refill, which was Danny’s cue that the clone was complete.

The table where they’d been sitting was empty when Stiles turned around, one of the fliers laying carelessly at the edge. Stiles picked it up by the corner and slipped it into a sheet protector when he got back to his own table.

Stiles took the coffee with him when he left to hand out more fliers to the local businesses. He had to keep up appearances in case the alpha pack had figured out Stiles’ connection to Derek’s pack and had someone watching him.

~*~

Lydia was waiting for Stiles when he got home.

“Hey,” Stiles said. “Please tell me we didn’t have shopping plans.”

“No,” Lydia said. “I’m here so you can fill me in.”

“Fill you in on what?”

“Danny’s evil werewolf boyfriend for one,” Lydia said.

Stiles failed. “Shhh! Don’t let my dad hear you!”

Lydia smiled sweetly. “Then you’d better start talking.”

“Fine,” Stiles said. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

“Who am I going to tell?” Lydia said lightly, unable to hide all the sadness that lay behind the question.

Stiles snuck Lydia up to his room and closed the door. He told her everything he’d learned about the alpha pack and what they were doing to locate them, and therefore Boyd and Erica, including cloning Ethan’s phone.

Lydia studied the map Stiles had used as a story prop. “You think the Preserve was a distraction because the Hales are too familiar with it,” she recapped.

“Yes.”

Lydia drew a line with her finger to the warehouse district. “You suspect they’d go here because it’s isolated and mostly abandoned.”

“Yes.”

“Isolated and abandoned,” Lydia repeated. “What about the mall?”

“That’s a good idea,” Stiles said, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper to take notes. “How can we find more places like that around here? There’s probably more than we know about, like an old abandoned farm house or a mine . . . Do we have mines around here?”

“We’ve got a lake house,” Lydia said.

“Okay?”

“It could be somewhere like that. Maybe not the lake because it’s summer now, but what about the ski lodge?”

“Lydia!” Stiles said. “You’re brilliant!”

Lydia shrugged. “Well, yes.”

Lydia’s mother was friends with Carol Schwartz, of Schwartz Realty. Lydia called her and, claiming she needed the information for a project for one of her summer college courses, obtained a list of abandoned structures in and around Beacon Hills. The office wasn’t open on Saturday, but Lydia arranged to pick up the list after her class on Monday.

~*~

Lydia read from a textbook for one of her classes while Stiles wrote everything he knew about the alpha pack and about Boyd and Erica’s disappearance on index cards. He shuffled the cards and laid them out. Reading them over triggered his memory to add more information, but no new insights.

Stiles was reshuffling the cards when Ethan’s phone rang. He glanced at Lydia, whose head had come up, the textbook forgotten.

“Hello,” Ethan said.

“How’s it going?”

“I’m getting a great tan,” Ethan said.

The voice on the other end snorted. “Deucalion’s getting impatient.”

“At least I’m talking to my mark,” Ethan said.

“Mine’s a little hard to just run in to. She isn’t sitting around a pool everyday, she’s taking college courses.”

Stiles glanced at Lydia, whose eyes went wide, then narrowed.

“Not smart enough to get into college?” Ethan teased.

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t worry, bro,” Ethan said. “Maybe I can help you out.”

“How?”

“Danny and Lydia are friends, right? Why don’t I set you up, maybe we can go on a double date.”

Lydia looked shocked, and then she smiled.

“No,” Stiles said.

“But I’m so bored,” Lydia said.

“Lydia.”

Lydia took out her phone and texted Danny.

~*~

“Do you plan on visiting everyday?” Isaac said.

Stiles had waited until both Lydia and his dad had left before heading over to the loft. “You can leave if you don’t want to hear my update,” he said.

Stiles told Derek (and Peter and Isaac) about the successful clone and the overheard call.

“So Lydia has also been targeted by the alpha pack,” Peter mused.

“You stay away from her,” Stiles said.

Peter raised his hands in supplication. “I have no intention of going anywhere near Lydia Martin.”

“ _She_ needs to stay away from the alpha pack,” Derek said.

“You think I didn’t tell her that?” Stiles said, getting more angry than the comment warranted. Probably because he was so worried about Lydia. “She’s been the love of my life since third grade . . . Shut up,” Stiles said before Isaac could speak. “The fact that she didn’t know I existed was immaterial.” He turned back to Derek. “You think I want her involved in this? But no one tells Lydia what to do. Or not to do.”

“He’s not wrong,” Isaac said at the same time Derek muttered something about, “Who’s that remind you of?”

“Love of your life?” Peter said.

“She’s brilliant _and_ beautiful,” Stiles said. “And still in love with Jackson, so keep your paws off her.”

“Dog jokes, Stiles? Isn’t that beneath you?”

“Nope. Speaking of Jackson,” Stiles said to Derek.

“He stopped by before he left,” Derek said.

“Is that . . . a problem? For you, I mean. His leaving.”

“Good riddance,” Isaac muttered.

Stiles held out his fist without taking his eyes off Derek, and to his surprise Isaac actually bumped it with his own.

“It’s fine,” Derek said, but Stiles figured Derek would’ve said that if he had a hole the size of a fist in his chest.

“Okay, but what about control and . . . I don’t know, whatever else new werewolves need after killing a lot of people as a kanima?”

“I gave him some lessons before he left and the name of someone he can contact in London,” Derek said gruffly. “He’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Awesome. Um . . . oh! Lydia thought of . . .”

All three werewolves went on alert.

“What’s going on?”

“Someone’s coming,” Isaac said.

Derek’s eyes bled red, then returned to his human hazel, which he turned on Stiles with a glare.

“What?”

“It’s Danny.”

“Okay?” Stiles went over to the door and slid it open. He waited until Danny reached the top of the stairs and raised a hand in greeting. “What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

Stiles might’ve let some of his concern for Lydia bleed into his voice because Danny raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t want Lydia involved in this, either, but you try saying ‘no’ to her.”

“She took me clothes shopping last weekend,” Stiles admitted.

Danny looked Stiles over. “Doesn’t look like it helped.”

“Hardy har har. What are you doing here?”

“Phone.” Danny held out his hand. Stiles pulled out his phone and gave it to Danny, who just continued to look at him. Finally Danny said, “The other phone.”

“Oh!” Stiles handed over the burner and Danny fiddled with it. Stiles tried to watch but Danny blocked it with his body. Stiles studied the phone when Danny handed it back, but he couldn’t see any difference. “What did you do?”

“They were smart enough to disable the GPS, but I remote accessed the camera and microphone. Now you can see and hear everything that happens on our double date.”

Stiles looked at the blank screen. “I can’t see _anything_.”

“Phone’s probably in a pocket or lying on a dresser, but you should still be able to hear.”

“Why didn’t you just do this before?” Stiles complained.

“You didn’t have a cloned phone before.”

“Point. Thank you. Also, uh . . .”

“I’ll be careful. And I’ll take care of Lydia.”

“Thanks.”

“She’d kill us both if she heard us talking about her like this.”

Stiles grinned. “I know. Watch out for her anyway.”

Stiles closed the door after Danny left. He was still smiling when he turned back to the room. Isaac refused to meet his gaze, Peter was giving him a speculative look, and Derek was glaring harder than usual. “What? Stop trying to glare a hole through me, sour wolf.”

Stiles ignored Isaac’s and Peter’s choked off snorts and held up the burner. “We’ve got eyes and ears on them.

Derek looked mildly appeased. “If your friend leads the alpha pack here I’ll kill him myself.”

“Duly noted.” Stiles looked at the screen, turning the phone this way and that, tilting his head.

“What are you doing?” Peter said.

“Trying to see _something_. We could maybe figure out where they’re staying and maybe where they’re hiding Boyd and Erica if Ethan would just take the damn phone out of his pocket . . . Oh!” The phone moved and Stiles saw a dresser, a bed, Ethan . . . “Euww!”

Stiles flipped the phone between his hands like a hot potato. His first inclination had been to drop it, but Danny would be pissed if they had to go through the whole cloning thing again.

“What is it?” Peter said.

“I think he just took a dick pic!” Stiles wailed.

There was a moment of silence as they all took this in. Isaac let out a snort of laughter, Peter looked amused, and the corner of Derek’s lips might’ve quirked, but it was over quickly.

“I’m glad you’re all enjoying my pain,” Stiles said.

“Even better,” Isaac said, “you need to keep a close eye on the screen for clues to where they’re staying.”

“I hate you all. But speaking of where they’re staying, Lydia had an idea.” Stiles told them about Lydia’s idea and the list she was getting from Carol Schwartz. “She thinks it’s for a project for one of Lydia’s summer college courses.”

“One of her summer college courses?” Derek said.

“I told you, brilliant.”

Derek looked like he’d bitten into a lemon.

“Good thinking,” Peter said. “The old mall is probably not where they’re staying; it’s too far outside of town.”

Stiles dragged his attention away from Derek’s reaction. “Wouldn’t that make it perfect?”

“I think they’d want to be close enough to watch us squirm.”

The thought, which mirrored Stiles’ own that he might have seen them around town without knowing, gave him the shivers.

“But we should probably check it out anyway so we can cross it off the list,” Peter allowed.

“After we’ve finished going through the last of the warehouses,” Derek said.

“Then I’ll get started on that,” Peter said. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

Derek frowned. “Since when do you ask for permission?”

“I’m trying to make you look good,” Peter said.

Stiles didn’t understand the comment, but Derek apparently did. He scowled at Peter and growled, “Go.”

“Should he go alone?” Stiles said.

“Are you offering to accompany me, Stiles?”

“Hell no.”

“I’ll go,” Isaac said. He stood, grabbing a scarf off the arm of the couch, and followed Peter.

“He knows it’s summer, right?” Stiles said to Derek.

“He can hear you!” Isaac yelled back.

“I know!”

“Enjoy your dick pics!”

“I really hate him,” Stiles muttered to Derek.

Derek stared silently at Stiles with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Why are you still here?”

“Because if we hear something important I don’t have to drive all the way back over here.”

“You could call.”

“I could, except you don’t answer my calls,” Stiles pointed out.

“What if I promised to answer?”

Stiles felt the sting of tears behind his eyes at Derek’s rejection of his help. Again. “Or maybe I won’t bother to call at all. I’ll follow up on it myself.” He spoke again when he reached the door. “It’s a good thing I’m doing this for Boyd and Erica, and not you.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles shut the door on whatever Derek was going to say and left. In the Jeep Stiles took out his phone and texted Danny. _he took a dick pic_ with a frowny face emoji. Stiles started the jeep and headed home. He checked his phone at a traffic light. Danny had texted back _was it nice?_

Stiles thought about it, and then realized he was thinking about the dick of an evil werewolf. _I h8 you 2 now_

When Stiles arrived home his dad was still up, if asleep in his recliner with a baseball game playing in the background could be considered ‘up’. Stiles shook his dad’s shoulder. “Hey, dad.”

Dad scrubbed a hand over his face and back over the top of his head. “Stiles. What time is it?”

Stiles checked his phone. It was only eight pm, but his dad had been putting in crazy hours. “You should get some real sleep.”

“I think I will.”

“Want me to make you some warm milk?”

“I’m not that far gone.” Dad lowered the footrest and stood.

“If you say so, old man.”

“Hey.” Dad curled his hand around the back of Stiles’ neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Dad pulled Stiles into a hug. Tears pricked the back of Stiles’ eyes for the second time that night as he hugged his dad back tightly.

“You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know.” Stiles silently thought, no way, absolutely not!

Stiles turned off the television for his dad, then got himself a Mountain Dew and a bowl of salt & vinegar chips before heading upstairs. He needed to fortify himself before looking at the recording he’d made, since he couldn’t keep his eye on the burner phone during the drive home.

Stiles fumbled the bowl and lost a couple chips when he saw Derek lurking in the shadows. He waited until he’d closed the door to hiss, “You asshole! What are you even doing here?”

“I wanted to help,” Derek said stiffly.

“Fuck you,” Stiles said. “You could’ve helped at your place, without making me drive home and putting us in a position where my dad might find you in my room.”

Stiles considered throwing the can of soda at Derek, but he didn’t want to have to go back downstairs to get another can he could open without it exploding. Stiles set the bowl and can on his desk, very deliberately removed his jacket, and picked up the chips he’d dropped before he forgot about them and crushed them into the already sketchy rug.

Stiles set everything up, then gestured Derek over. “Bring that chair.” When Derek was seated beside him, Stiles indicated a pair of earphones. Since Scott had spent so much time at Stiles’ house playing video games and watching movies, he’d invested in a dual jack and a second pair of earphones so they didn’t bother his dad.

From what Stiles had heard so far, neither Ethan nor Aiden had given away anything about their location except that the drive to the restaurant from wherever they were staying had taken about fifteen minutes. Presuming they hadn’t driven around in circles. But Danny and Lydia were going to try to get some information out of the twins that would help them find their hidey hole.

While they were listening to what they could make out of the mundane chatter, Stiles played the video. Thankfully he hadn’t pressed record until after the dick pick had been taken. Ethan had set the phone down, so all Stiles got was a view of the ceiling, which didn’t give much away. There was a quick glimpse of the floor before Ethan shoved the phone in his pocket and then it remained blank.

“So much for that,” Stiles said, throwing himself back in the chair in disgust. He leaned forward and started the video over, concentrating on the ceiling and the glimpse of floor. “Anything?” Stiles said after they’d stared at the ceiling and floor for a few minutes.

Derek growled and shook his head.

They didn’t get anything interesting on audio until the twins returned home. (The drive took twenty minutes this time, which supported Stiles’ theory that they were being sneaky.)

“What did you learn?” a female voice said.

“Not much,” one of the twins said.

“But it’s early days yet,” said the other.

“Don’t take too long,” said the female, who had to be Kali. “Deucalion doesn’t like incompetence.”

There were a few minutes of silence and a door closed. “How the hell are we going to figure out which one is important to Hale?” one of the twins said.

Stiles looked at Derek who looked as gobsmacked as Stiles felt. “They’ve targeted Danny and Lydia because they think they’re important to you! Or that one of them is. Why would they think that?”

“How would I know?”

“Danny’s not supernatural.” Stiles gave Derek a look. “Is he? Could you tell?”

Derek shrugged. “Depends. But I haven’t sensed anything.”

“Okay. And Lydia.” Stiles swallowed hard at the thought that Lydia might be a target of the alpha pack. “She was bitten by a werewolf, but she didn’t change, and she didn’t die. Peter said those were the only two options. Could they want her because of that? Do they think she’s _something_?” Stiles heard his own voice go high and shrill at the end.

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I’ve never heard of anyone who rejected the bite and survived.”

Derek’s lips thinned, but Stiles ignored it in favor of freaking out about Lydia. “How would they even know she’d been bitten?” Stiles smacked his head. “Shit, of course!”

“What?”

“Morrell. She’s been here the whole time. And she’s supposedly Deaton’s sister – and no, I don’t know whether that’s by blood or because they belong to the same emissary circle, or whatever. But she would have access to certain information, and unlike people like my dad, she’d know it wasn’t a mountain lion or whatever.”

“You think she told them about Lydia?”

Stiles tugged at his non-existent hair. “I don’t know!”

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know that, either.” Stiles pulled out his phone. “But I can find out.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ wrist. “Don’t go off half-cocked.”

Stiles snorted derisively. “You’re one to talk.”

Derek released Stiles and moved away from him. Before Stiles could pull up Morrell’s number, or say something even more nasty, his phone dinged with a text from Lydia.

“They’re outside,” Stiles said. “Lydia and Danny.” He headed for the door, pointing to the window. “You go out the way you came in. They’re just down the street.”

Derek beat Stiles to the front of the house, but he waited under a tree for him and they walked to Danny’s car together. Stiles got into the backseat and slid over so Derek could get in. Lydia quirked an eyebrow at Stiles when she saw Derek, but she didn’t say anything about his presence.

“So, how was your double date?” Stiles said with overdone enthusiasm to cover his concern.

“It went well,” Lydia said. “Aiden seemed like a nice guy. Too bad he’s actually an evil werewolf.” She gave Stiles a look. “You’re jumpier than usual. What did you find out?”

“That Deucalion is impatient and they seem to be under the impression that one of you is _something_. And also important to Derek,” Stiles squeezed in quickly. “I don’t suppose you’re secretly a supernatural creature?” he said to Danny. “Werebunny? Were _bear_?”

“Those aren’t real.”

“Says the werewolf. Also, I didn’t think an alpha pack could be real, yet here we are. So?” Stiles said to Danny.

“I am not a supernatural creature,” Danny said.

“That leaves . . .”

Everyone looked at Lydia.

“What?”

“You were bitten by a werewolf,” Stiles said. “You didn’t change, and you didn’t die. Why?”

“There must be more to it than that,” Derek said.

“Why?”

“Because it’s common knowledge that Lydia was attacked and hospitalized, even if the authorities don’t know the full extent of it. The alpha back must already know all that, so why also target Danny?”

Now everyone’s eyes turned back to Danny, who raised his hands. “Seriously, I’m nothing.”

“Maybe the key isn’t that they’re supernatural, but that they’re important to Derek,” Stiles said. “Maybe they want to know everyone who’s in Derek’s pack.”

“Then why look at either one of us?” Lydia said, then to Derek, “No offense.”

“Well,” Stiles said, “there’s only one person who connects the two of you to Derek.”

“Jackson,” Danny said.

Lydia’s lips tightened.

“Jackson was a kanima before he completed the transformation to werewolf,” Stiles said. “Could that mean anything to them?”

“It’s getting late,” Danny said. “Why don’t we sleep on it?”

Derek disappeared while Stiles watched Danny and Lydia drive away. Stiles snuck back into the house, got a glass of water in case his dad wondered why he was up, and returned to his bedroom. Before he went to bed, Stiles pulled his list out from under the keyboard and added, _4\. What is Lydia?_

~*~*~*~

Stiles thought he’d have to come up with a story for his dad about what he was going to be doing that day, but since he’d slept in after everything that had happened the night before, his dad had already left for work. There was a note on the table and some money for Stiles to do the grocery shopping if they wanted to eat that night.

Stiles pushed down the twinge of guilt that his dad had to work so much and grabbed the last package of Pop-Tarts. He put them in the toaster and ran back upstairs to dunk his head in the sink and get dressed.

Stiles hurried through the shopping, which included a lot of vegetables and some turkey burgers, bacon and sausage, as well as more Pop-Tarts and Cinnamon Frosted Flakes that Stiles liked to eat right out of the box. He put everything away at home, then hit the In-N-Out drive thru on his way to Derek’s loft.

No one was there when Stiles arrived. He made himself comfortable on the single chair a the table. Derek had somehow gotten a map of the warehouse district with most of the buildings marked on it. Those that weren’t had been added in pencil and half a dozen were crossed out with a large red X. Stiles presumed that meant those buildings had been searched already. Others were scribbled out. Stiles was contemplating whether that meant they weren’t abandoned or something else when the door slid open with a loud bang that made Stiles jump.

Derek stalked in and gave Stiles a glare that was only softened by his enjoyment at being able to startle Stiles. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t front, grumpy wolf, I know you’re happy to see me.”

Derek grunted and took the stairs two at a time.

“Well, at least I know someone’s happy to see me,” Stiles said.

“I’m always happy to see you, Stiles,” Peter purred.

Stiles shuddered. “Not you.” He picked up the In-N-Out bag and opened it so the scent of burgers wafted out.

Isaac’s nose twitched. “I’ll only admit to being happy to see the food.”

Stiles tilted his head in thought. “Good enough.”

Stiles moved the papers aside so they didn’t get greasy and dumped out the packages. The three of them fell on the food like a pack of, well, wolves.

Stiles waited until Peter had a mouthful of food to ask, “What is Lydia?”

Peter didn’t choke like Stiles had hoped he might. Instead he took his time chewing and swallowing, then gave Stiles a bland look. “Why are you asking me?”

Stiles refused to let Peter get under his skin. Rather, Stiles refused to let Peter _see_ that he’d gotten under his skin. “Because you bit her.” Stiles kept his voice as even as he could. Thinking about that night, with Lydia bleeding out and Peter threatening to kill her wasn’t good for Stiles’ equilibrium.

Peter waved his hand as if his biting Lydia had been no big deal. “You have to remember that I was insane when I bit Lydia.”

Isaac made a sound that both Stiles and Peter ignored.

“At the time I was looking for Scott. If anything drew me to Lydia other than the fact that she smelled like you, I don’t recall it.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Stiles said.

“That said, if Lydia does turn out to be something cool and powerful, I’m totally taking the credit.”

“Of course you are. Alright, then lets think about it this way. You told me that you die or you turn, so who or what could survive a werewolf bite and _not_ turn into a werewolf?”

Peter’s gaze went distant. “Those are the only options; reject the bite and die, or turn. I’ve never heard of anyone who survived the bite without turning. No one human, anyway.”

Stiles’ heart, heavy with dread, plummeted into his stomach. “So she’s not human, then. We need to figure out what she is before the alpha pack does.”

Stiles looked right at Derek, standing at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt that clung to every muscle, his hair still wet from the shower. “How do we do that?” he said in desperation.

Derek shrugged. “A blood test?”

“A blood test, yes! What will that tell us, exactly?”

“Whether or not she’s completely human,” Peter said.

“But she was just in the hospital,” Stiles said. “Wouldn’t they have found something then?”

“Perhaps we could get a look at those test results,” Peter said. “Scott’s mother works at the hospital, if I recall correctly.”

“You stay away from Melissa,” Stiles said with more rage than he thought he still held over Peter threatening Melissa back when he was trying to force Scott to work with him.

Peter held up both hands. “I wasn’t suggesting that I be the one to contact her.”

Stiles stared at the table and took a few deep breaths. “All the alpha pack has to do is watch Lydia and Danny to know that they’re not part of your pack. I mean, neither one of them is even a werewolf . . .”

“Packs can have humans in them.”

The fact that Derek spoke, much less offered pertinent information, startled Stiles into a pause. “Good to know. But even so, the fact is that these two humans are not part of your pack, so why does the alpha pack think they are?” Stiles scrubbed a hand over the top of his head. “It _can’t_ be Jackson. He cannot continue to be a pain in my ass when he’s not even here!”

“Maybe they’re just wrong,” Isaac said.

“What do you mean?” Stiles demanded.

Isaac looked sorry he’d spoken up, but after a slight hesitation he continued. “What if they think Lydia and Danny are pack because of Jackson, what if they think one of them is important to Derek _because_ they’re human in a werewolf pack, but what if they’ve got it wrong?”

“Okay,” Stiles said slowly, thinking, “so they’re wrong, but what gave them that idea in the first place? If they were watching closely – and the fact that they marked your door and knew where to take Boyd and Erica suggest they were – they’d know this didn’t make sense.”

“Unless someone they trust told them that it was true.” Peter studied his nails as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.

Stiles and Derek exchanged a look.

“Ah, yes, the mystery man who gave you the photo.”

“Yes,” Stiles said. “Let’s call him . . . Q. Why would Q tell the alpha pack something we know to be false?”

“Throw them off the scent of the truth, obviously,” Peter said.

“What truth?” Stiles said.

“Keep them busy,” Isaac said.

Stiles jabbed a finger in Isaac’s direction. “Because while they’re looking at Lydia and Danny they’re _not_ looking at . . . something else,” he trailed off. “But if Q is working with or for the alpha pack, why try to hamper them?”

“You’re assuming Q is working with or for the alpha pack,” Derek said. “Q did give you the photo. What if Q is secretly working _against_ the alpha pack?”

Stiles vibrated with excitement. “Yes, that . . . yes! But why just give us the photo, why not tell us where the alpha back is keeping Boyd and Erica?”

“Because Q knows what would happen to him if the alpha pack found out he’d betrayed them.”

Stiles let out a sigh. “Yes.” He absently unwrapped another burger and took a bite. “You should get some before they’re completely cold,” Stiles told Derek. He took in the wrappers littering the table. “And before Isaac eats them all.”

“I was hungry,” Isaac said around a mouthful of burger.

~*~

Derek brought Stiles up to speed on their search of the warehouses before he left. Stiles didn’t know if Melissa was working today so he called Scott. The call went straight to voice mail and Stiles was silently cursing Scott when a series of texts came in.

_cant talk rn_   
_in library_   
_whats up_

Stiles frowned at the thought of Scott voluntarily going to the library, then texted back. _is your mom working today_

_no why_

_i need to talk to her_   
_girl stuff_

Stiles chuckled to himself as he imagined Scott’s reaction to that. He hit the McDonald’s drive thru for an Iced French Vanilla Latte with which to bribe Melissa and headed out to the McCall house.

Melissa answered the door with her hair pulled back, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and a dust cloth in her hand. Her frazzled expression melted away when she saw the iced drink. She waggled her fingers at it in a ‘gimme’ gesture. “I don’t even care why you’re here right now.”

Melissa took a sip and studied Stiles as she pressed the cool plastic against her face. “I suppose I have to let you in now.”

“You accepted my gift of food, now you’re indebted to me.”

Melissa made a ‘hmmph’ sound and took another sip. “This really is bliss.” She sighed at Stiles and turned away. “Worth it. Come in.”

Stiles hurried inside and closed the door behind him. He followed Melissa into the living room where the couch had been pulled away from the wall so she could vacuum behind it. Melissa dropped into the recliner and Stiles sat on the edge of the couch across from her.

“I need a favor.”

Melissa widened her eyes as she sipped the iced latte. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Fair enough,” Stiles said. “Did Scott mention that he wasn’t the only person bitten by Peter Hale?”

Melissa lowered the cup and leaned forward. “Is this about Lydia?”

“Yes.” Stiles was relieved he didn’t have to go into that whole thing. “When Peter offered to bite me . . .”

“What?”

Stiles waved his hand. “He didn’t, and also, not the point. I said no. But Peter told me there were two outcomes – you turn into a werewolf, or you reject the bite and die.”

“Lydia did neither,” Melissa said.

“Exactly. Which leads us to believe that she might be . . . something else.”

“Okay,” Melissa said warily. “Where do I come in?”

“The doctors must’ve ordered blood work while Lydia was in the hospital . . .”

“And you’d like to see what the results were,” Melissa guessed.

“Yes.”

Melissa sipped the latte while she thought about Stiles’ request. Stiles had leaned so far forward while he watched Melissa that he almost fell off the couch when she turned her attention back to him.

“That’s a big favor,” Melissa said. “I could get into a lot of trouble if I got caught. So, if I do that for you, I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” Stiles said.

“Tell your dad about werewolves.”

~*~

Stiles slammed back into Derek’s loft as much as he could without being able to actually slam the darned sliding door. Derek looked up at Stiles from where he stood at the table, leaning on his hands. Stiles glanced at Derek’s stupid muscles and stomped into the loft.

“Aren’t you even going to ask me what’s wrong?” Stiles demanded.

Derek quirked an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, Stiles?”

“Thank you for asking, Derek. I went to see Melissa about getting Lydia’s blood test results. She said it was a big favor, one that could get her fired and banned from nursing altogether, yadda, yadda, yadda, so she needed me to do her a favor in return.”

Derek straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “What favor?”

Stiles jerked his eyes back to Derek’s face. “She wants me to tell my dad about werewolves!”

Derek’s jaw worked. “I’m not thrilled about everyone and their brother knowing because someone could slip up, but what’s _your_ objection?”

“What’s _my_ objection?” Stiles said. “What’s my _objection_?”

Derek just stood there with his very familiar ‘I don’t know why I put up with you’ expression aimed at Stiles.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “If my dad finds out about werewolves he’ll get involved and he’ll get hurt, maybe killed!”

“Like you did.”

“Yes, Derek, just like I did.” Stiles paced and bit the corner of his thumbnail. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him. He’s all I’ve got.”

“I know how you feel,” Derek said, the words sounding as if they were forced out of him. “The only person I’ve got left is Peter, and he’s not even Peter anymore.”

“Sorry.”

“Have you considered that he’d be safer if he knew? Because he’d know what was out there. He could help us. And you could stop lying to him.”

Stiles shook his head.

“Alright. We can back burner the Lydia question for now. If we’re right about . . . Q sending the alpha pack on a wild goose chase, then it’s not important right now. We’ll figure it out once Boyd and Erica are home.”

Stiles stared at Derek for what felt like forever, swallowing around the lump in his throat and blinking away the sting in his eyes. “Thanks.”

Derek nodded.

Stiles changed the subject. “What are you doing?”

“Looking into Lydia’s idea of other abandoned buildings.”

“You don’t think they’re down here in the warehouse district anymore?”

“We’re not done searching – Peter and Isaac are checking out another warehouse now – but it doesn’t feel right. There’s enough people going in and out of the other warehouses to notice strangers or hear cries for help. And I don’t sense them. I can’t smell them or hear their heartbeats . . .”

“What have you found?”

“Some articles on closed businesses and homes that were foreclosed on.” Derek stepped aside when Stiles went around the table to look at the screen of the laptop and the list Derek made.

“Where are you going to start?”

“The mall,” Derek said. “Peter’s right about them probably wanting to watch us squirm, but it’s huge. There’s plenty of space to hideout. And it’s far enough outside of town that no one would see or hear anything. We need to rule it out at least.”

~*~*~*~

Stiles had felt guilty all through supper last night because he couldn’t stop thinking about Melissa’s ultimatum. He knew she didn’t mean it that way, but Stiles couldn’t see it as anything else. If _she_ was tired of lying to his dad, she should be Stiles for a day. And now his dad kept staring at Stiles from his office, which was making him feel more antsy. He hung up on the mayor once and sent a couple calls to the wrong person. He’d apologize with donuts tomorrow morning, but for today he was happy to escape at noon.

Stiles tripped over his own feet when he saw Lydia leaning against the Jeep. “Lydia, hi. What are you doing here?”

Lydia unfolded her arms and waved the papers she held in her hand. The list. Stiles hurried over and reached for the papers, but Lydia pulled them back.

“Buy me lunch and you can have the list.”

“Deal.”

Stiles’ belly did somersaults as he climbed into the Jeep. He was surprised to realize that they were the ‘lunch with a beautiful and brilliant woman’ kind, not the ‘love of my life’ kind.

Lydia agreed to the diner. Stiles ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries for himself, and Lydia got the grilled chicken sandwich with a tossed salad for the side. Stiles pushed his plate closer so she could steal some of his fries.

“I can’t help but notice you got some sun this weekend,” Stiles said before shoving the straw in his mouth so he didn’t say anything else.

“I went to the pool yesterday.”

“You went to the pool?”

“Just for a couple hours. Even with sunscreen I burn quickly, plus I had a paper to finish. It’s due next week, but no sense waiting.”

Stiles shook his head. He wanted to yell at Lydia for putting herself in danger, but she’d only slap Stiles for treating her as if she was weak and stupid. “How far ahead have you read?” Stiles said instead of what he wanted to say.

Lydia gave him a look. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already finished all of the reading.”

Stiles laughed and asked Lydia about college so he didn’t have to think about Aiden and his ulterior motives in dating her.

After a quick stop at the Sheriff Department to drop off the chef salad Stiles had ordered for his dad, Stiles drove them out to Derek’s loft. Derek was once again standing at the table looking over the map and other papers spread out there. He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest when Stiles pushed the door open.

“You should oil this thing.” Stiles glanced around the room so he didn’t stare. “Where’s Isaac?”

“With Scott,” Derek said with a sour look.

Stiles almost wished he hadn’t asked. “What about Peter?” he asked in deference to himself as much as Lydia.

Derek raised his eyes to the ceiling just as a pair of brown suede loafers appeared at the top of the stairs, followed by the hem of a pair of blue jeans. Stiles rolled his eyes as Peter sauntered down the stairs.

“Hello, Stiles,” Peter purred. “Lydia. Speak of the devil.”

“What does that mean?” Lydia said.

“We were trying to figure out why you were targeted by the alpha pack,” Stiles said.

“Me and Danny.”

“Yes, but they only want one of you, and you’re the only one who was bitten by a werewolf,” Stiles said.

“That you know of.”

“That we know of,” Stiles agreed.

“My injuries and hospital stay were in the papers,” Lydia said. “So if that’s the only reason they’re interested in me, then they wouldn’t be interested in Danny.”

“It’s possible Jackson is the key,” Peter said. “You’re both connected to him.”

“That must’ve been hard to say,” Lydia said sweetly. “That there’s something that has nothing to do with you.”

“Peter,” Derek said before Peter could reply.

Peter responded to the warning tone and visibly reined himself in. He turned his head to look at Derek, who tilted his head towards the door. Peter nodded, grabbed his jacket off the arm of the couch, and left. The entire exchange happened in silence.

“That was eery,” Stiles said.

Derek ignored Stiles’ comment and Peter’s exit. “Is that the list?”

“Yes.” Lydia crossed the room and handed the list to Derek.

“Thank you,” Derek said stiffly. “This was a good idea.”

Lydia shrugged as if Derek’s praise was NBD, but she said, “You’re welcome.”

Lydia wandered around the table to look out the windows. Stiles moved closer to the table.

“Did you check out the mall?”

“Yes,” Derek said absently as he ran his eyes down the list.

“Well?”

Derek raised his eyes. “Obviously they weren’t there.”

Stiles deflated. “Obviously.”

“Have you seen the list?”

Stiles nodded. “There are a lot more buildings on there than I thought there’d be.” He hadn’t realized there were that many abandoned spaces in Beacon Hills. “How should we approach it?”

Derek gave Stiles a look that said ‘we?’, but Stiles just stared him down.

“I think we should stick with the plan and check out places that are isolated.” Derek picked up a purple highlighter. “If we mark those it’ll narrow down our search.”

Stiles made a sound like a dying buffalo and made grabby hands towards the highlighter. “Let me, please.”

Derek handed Stiles the highlighter and stepped back when Stiles rounded the table so he could sit in the chair.

“Don’t get between Stiles and his highlighters,” Lydia said. “He’s got a weird thing for them.”

Stiles couldn’t see Lydia’s face, but he heard the eye roll in her tone. “It’s not weird, and you’re not one to talk, Miss-I-dated-a-kanima,” Stiles said around the cap in his mouth.

“Jackson wasn’t a kanima when I dated him,” Lydia said archly, then said to Derek, “These are great windows. Too bad you don’t have a nicer view.”

“I didn’t buy the place for the view,” Derek said.

“Why _did_ you buy the place?” Lydia said.

“The hole in the wall matched the hole in his soul,” Stiles said absently as he read down the list.

“Stiles,” Lydia said sharply.

Stiles raised his head. “What?”

Lydia raised a judgmental eyebrow and Stiles rewound what he’d said.

“Oh. Sorry. Sometimes I open my mouth and words just . . .” Stiles gestured things falling out of his mouth. “. . . spill out. Sometimes they’re not as funny as I think they’re gonna be.”

“Funny that you think there’s any thought involved,” Lydia said.

“It’s fine,” Derek said stiffly.

“It’s really not,” Stiles said.

~*~

“Why does it smell like bacon in here?”

“I’m making omelets for supper.”

“With real bacon,” Dad said as if he thought it might be a joke.

“Just a couple slices,” Stiles said.

“Are you telling me that there is real bacon in this house?”

Stiles ignored the question and pointed out the bowls he’d already fixed up. “But you’ve got to eat a salad first.”

Dad rolled his eyes. He left the kitchen to go lock up his service weapon, but his voice carried back to Stiles. “At this rate I’m gonna turn into a damned rabbit.”

Dad leaned back in his chair after he’d finished every last bit of the omelet, picking up bacon crumbs with his finger. “So. What’s the occasion?”

Stiles wasn’t surprised at the question. His dad was a sheriff and he knew Stiles; of course he’d realize that something was up. Stiles still didn’t have an answer ready. He dragged his fork through the last bit of what had turned out to look more like cheesy scrambled eggs than an omelet. “I know things have been weird between us.”

“Stiles . . .”

“And that it’s my fault. I am keeping things from you, but it’s not drugs or whatever else you’re thinking.”

Dad reached across the table and covered Stiles hand. “Stiles, you can talk to me about _anything_.”

“Have you ever kept something from anyone for their own good?”

Dad opened his mouth to issue a denial, then closed it. He finally said, “Yes. But that doesn’t usually end well.”

They were both silent for a moment before dad spoke again. “Why do you think keeping this . . .” He spread his hands. “. . . whatever it is, is for my own good?”

“Your job is dangerous enough . . .”

“What you’re involved in is dangerous?” Dad said, unable to keep the concern out of his voice.

“Some people have told me I should tell you, that you’d be safer if you knew, but . . .”

“Would I be? Safer?”

“No!” Stiles said. “Because you’d get involved!”

“Like you are?”

“That’s different,” Stiles said. “I mostly do research.”

“Mostly,” Dad repeated. “Stiles . . .”

“You’re all I’ve got left!”

Dad tightened his grip on Stiles’ hand. “That works both ways, kiddo.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is wooed by Deucalion, Peter is cryptic, Deaton is holding back, Stiles finds out more about the twins, the Sheriff is not an idiot, and the Argents return to Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Stiles has a panic attack that his dad helps him out of.

The Second Week of Summer Vacation: Tuesday – Thursday

Stiles rubbed his finger through the wet ring his iced coffee had left on the table as he wondered what he could do that afternoon. He’d gone through Lydia’s list yesterday and highlighted all the properties located outside of town in purple. Derek, Peter and Isaac were checking out as many of them as they could today.

Lydia had class. Danny was working. That left Stiles with very little he could do to help, aside from going through the video to see if any identifying features or landmarks showed up on Ethan’s phone. So far he’d been smart enough to keep his phone in his pocket unless he needed to use it, and on those occasions he managed to keep their location hidden.

Stiles went over his own list.

_1\. Boyd and Erica – ~~missing~~ where are the alpha back keeping them?_

_2\. Victoria Argent bitten – ~~if not Derek, who?~~ alpha pack_

_~~3\. Gerard – where is he?~~ _

_4\. What is Lydia?_

They were narrowing down Boyd and Erica’s location and Stiles already had an idea of who had bitten Victoria, and they’d hit a wall on the question of why Lydia was able to reject the bite and not die. Allison hadn’t been very forthcoming about Gerard’s location, but maybe she’d be willing to help with Lydia. Stiles pulled out his phone and went to the last text he’d sent Allison and began to type.

“Excuse me,” someone said in a deep, cultured voice. “Is this seat taken?”

Stiles glanced up from the screen and immediately choked on his own saliva when he recognized Deucalion from the photo Morrell had given them. “Damn,” Stiles said, coughing and hoping that Deucalion thought his racing heart was because he’d nearly just choked to death. “I hate when that happens.”

“Are you alright?” Deucalion said, sounding sincerely concerned.

“I will be,” Stiles said in a choked voice and took a sip of the iced coffee.

“It appears that you’ll live.”

The words were spoken lightly, but they sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine anyway. “Thanks.”

“About that seat?”

“Dude,” Stiles said, forcing himself to sound normal. “There are five empty tables and you want to sit with me?”

Deucalion raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that, you knew this seat was empty, you had to have known that there are tables available.”

Deucalion tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Maybe I don’t want to drink alone.”

Stiles snorted despite the lead in his belly. He indicated the chair. “Knock yourself out, man.”

Boyd, Erica, Victoria, Gerard, Lydia, Stiles thought to himself. Boyd, Erica, Victoria, Gerard, Lydia. It wasn’t as soothing a mantra as it could be, so Stiles changed out the names of the people he didn’t care about and inserted the names of people he did. Boyd, Erica, Derek, Scott, Lydia. Boyd, Erica, Derek, Scott, Lydia. Boyd, Erica, Derek, Scott, Lydia.

Stiles’ heart rate slowed down. He watched Deucalion navigate setting down the cup, pulling out the chair and sitting, then picking up the cup to drink, all without spilling a drop or tripping over his own feet. Stiles couldn’t even always manage that. Stiles didn’t know what it was like to be blind, but to his inexperienced mind Deucalion didn’t seem to be having any difficulties. Maybe having the heightened senses of a werewolf helped.

As if to confirm Stiles’ thoughts, Deucalion said, “You should finish your text.”

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles glanced down at the phone he’d forgotten he was holding. He finished typing _any guesses what lydia is may be urgent_ and hit send.

“My friend Allison,” Stiles said as he pocketed the phone, even though ‘friend’ might be pushing it right now. “She and her dad are traveling for the summer.”

Stiles had a terrible idea. “Her mom died a few months ago,” he said, carefully watching Deucalion without it looking like he was. “Allison took it pretty hard.”

Understatement.

“The loss of a parent is difficult,” Deucalion said without the slightest hint that he or one of his pack was responsible for biting Victoria Argent.

“Yeah.” Stiles had been trying to get information out of Deucalion, but now he was reminded of his own loss.

“Perhaps we should introduce ourselves.”

“Oh, right. I’m Stiles.”

Deucalion extended a hand across the table. “Hello, Stiles. You can call me Duke.”

Stiles turned his laugh into a cough and hid a wince when ‘Duke’ tightened his grip.

“Something funny?”

“No, sorry, it’s just that Duke sounds like the name of a dog . . .” A rabid dog. “. . .or someone with delusions of grandeur.”

Instead of being insulted, Deucalion released Stiles’ hand and leaned back in the chair. “And Stiles is any better?”

“You got me there,” Stiles said. “It’s a nickname because my first name is actually worse.”

“Hard to believe,” Deucalion said dryly.

“Ha ha.” Stiles took a sip of the coffee, holding the plastic cup tight to hide the way his hand was shaking. “So,” he said, carefully setting down the cup. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

Deucalion smiled, but Stiles had a feeling that it didn’t go all the way to his eyes.

~*~

A half hour later Stiles pulled into the parking lot in front of the Animal Clinic. He’d sat at the café after Deucalion left until he no longer felt as if he might lose control of his spaghetti legs or his bladder before getting into his Jeep. Stiles figured he must look pretty bad because Deaton took one look at him and invited Stiles back to his office.

“What happened?”

“I just had coffee with Deucalion.” Saying the words out loud made the surreal experience seem even more unreal.

“How did that happen?”

“I was at the café and he showed up, asked to sit at my table.”

“You’ve brought yourself to his attention,” Miss Morrell said.

Stiles’ heart leapt into his throat. “Was that really necessary?”

Morrell ignored him and stepped out of the shadows. “He knows you’re associated with the Hale pack. The question is whether he knows that you know who _he_ is?”

“I played it cool,” Stiles said.

Deaton made a sound that he turned into the most fake cough Stiles had ever heard. It was almost worth it being at Stiles expense to get a reaction out of him.

“I’m sure you did,” Miss Morrell said, “but do you really think you were able to hide your reaction to seeing him from werewolf senses? He could hear your heartbeat, smell your fear . . .”

“So we should assume he knows that I know, but should we assume he knows that _I_ know that he knows?”

~*~

Stiles dropped two meat lovers on the space Derek quickly cleared when he saw the boxes in Stiles’ hands. He’d dropped off a salad and slice of veggie for his dad, who was working late. Stiles hated that his dad was force to put in so many hours (especially since it was Stiles’ fault in part), but he was glad that he didn’t have to lie to his dad about where he was going tonight.

Stiles waited until Isaac had stolen the last slice of pizza from under Peter’s hand to tell them about his run-in with Deucalion that afternoon. “And I also ran into, uh, Q.”

“And what did Q have to say?” Peter said, with emphasis on the alias.

“Not much, unfortunately. Except that Deucalion knows I’m helping you.”

“Of course,” Peter said thoughtfully.

“Of course what?” Stiles said.

“Oh, nothing,” Peter said. “Just thinking out loud.”

“Convincing,” Stiles said. “I told Q that if he, or she, really wanted to help us he could tell us where they were keeping Boyd and Erica.”

“I’m guessing Q didn’t want to be that helpful,” Derek said, a low growl in his throat.

“He said we weren’t _ready_.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Derek said, slamming the side of his fist onto the table. The resulting bang made Stiles jump and Isaac fold in on himself. Derek gave Isaac an apologetic look that he didn’t see.

Stiles shrugged.

“You need to be more careful.”

“Cat’s already out of the bag now, care bear wolf.”

Derek snarled.

“I’m going to continue to be my oblivious self, throw them off the scent if they’re expecting me to act scared.”

~*~*~*~

Stiles saw movement at his elbow. He glanced up, thinking it was Sally offering him a refill on his soda. Stiles jerked and fumbled the phone in his hands when he recognized Deucalion. “Jesus!” Stiles grabbed his chest where his heart was racing. “Is this going to be a thing now?”

“Hello, Stiles,” Deucalion said, ignoring Stiles’ reaction. “May I join you?”

“I guess,” Stiles said. He gave the diner a covert glance and saw Kali and Ennis sitting in a booth and the twins with their backs to him at the counter. Stiles was glad his heart was already beating fast so it didn’t give away that he recognized anyone else.

Sally came over to take Deucalion’s order for a coffee, black, and brought Stiles a soda refill. Stiles slid the phone into the front pocket of his jeans so he didn’t drop it. He held the cup with both hands so they didn’t shake, and shoved the straw into his mouth so he didn’t start babbling.

Stiles waited until Sally dropped off Deucalion’s coffee before speaking. “So, what’s up?”

“I know you’re part of the Hale pack,” Deucalion said.

Stiles spit out the sip of soda he’d just taken and barked a laugh. “Sorry,” he said as he pulled napkins out of the dispenser and mopped up the mess he’d made. Stiles glanced at Deucalion, who was wiping soda off the back of his hand and his right cheek with an honest to god white cloth handkerchief with his initials embroidered on one corner.

“Sorry,” Stiles said again. “But you couldn’t be more wrong. Derek barely tolerates me, and way to make it sound like I’m in some kind of gang. If my dad heard that I’d be grounded for the rest of my life.”

Deucalion tilted his head. “You’re not lying,” he said in wonder.

“Why would I lie about that?”

“Then why are you hanging around Hale?”

“We have mutual interests that converge . . . mutually.”

“May I ask what those interests are?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the posters . . . Oh, wait. Sorry. Two students disappeared a couple months ago.”

“Friends of yours?”

Stiles hmm’d. “More like acquaintances, I’d say.”

“But you’re still interested in their well-being?”

“Yes, of course.”

“What would you say if I told you I’d like you to consider joining _my_ pack?”

“I don’t think my dad would like it if I started hanging around with someone so much older than me,” Stiles said with brutal honesty. He pulled out his wallet. “Look, this has been loads of fun.” Stiles didn’t care if Deucalion sensed the lie. “But I’ve got to get going.”

Stiles threw down enough to cover the meal and a good tip because Sally never tried to rush him and was generous with the refills. He slid out of the booth and stood. Kali and Ennis both stood, as well, and placed themselves in his path. Stiles jerked back and swore. He wished he could say he was acting.

“You brought friends?” Stiles took a step away from the booth and pretended to just see Ethan and Aiden, who had turned around on the stools, for the first time. “Oh, hey, uh, Ethan, right?” Stiles looked between the two of them. “There are two of you? Don’t tell me you guys are with him, too?”

“That’s Ethan,” Aiden said. “I’m Aiden, and I’m dating Lydia.”

“Lydia,” Stiles repeated. “Well, she dated Jackson, so she’s shown poor judgment before.”

Aiden bared his teeth and lunged at Stiles. Stiles took a step back and Ethan placed a restraining hand on his brother’s arm.

“You might want to work on your recruitment speech,” Stiles told Deucalion before he got the hell out of there.

~*~

Stiles’ knees were still weak when he parked outside Derek’s loft. He’d debated coming over, but if Deucalion already knew Stiles was working with Derek, then what difference did it make? Besides, he didn’t want to go home where he’d be alone until his dad got home.

Derek was waiting in the doorway when Stiles reached the top of the stairs. “Oh, good, you’re here.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Deucalion cornered me at the diner, and this time he brought the rest of his pack with him.”

“What? What did they want?”

“They want Stiles to join their pack,” Peter said.

“How do you know that?” Stiles demanded.

“Why do they want Stiles?” Isaac said.

“That _is_ the question, isn’t it?” Peter said thoughtfully.

“Fuck both of you,” Stiles said, then turned to Derek. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Tell me what happened.”

Stiles replayed the scene. When he was done Derek was frowning, Peter was looking at Stiles as if he was a puzzle, and Isaac was eating Fritos with a bored expression.

“Tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything,” Peter said.

“I could make you talk.”

Peter looked more intrigued than scared. “How, pray tell?”

“How? I’ll tell you how. I'll break off an extra-large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe, and shove it up your freakin' a–.”

Peter’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. “Someone’s been doing research.” His expression changed and he looked almost fond. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I’d bitten you instead of Scott.”

Stiles knew that his face had to show how aghast that comment made him feel. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Peter gave Stiles a look, as if he’d said something stupid. “Yes.”

Stiles shook his head, pushing away the memory of Peter asking Stiles if he wanted the bite, and the thought that if he’d accepted he’d be a full-fledged member of Derek’s pack right now. “Then tell me what you _suspect_.”

Peter smiled. “You really are too clever for your own good.”

“Mmm hmm.” Stiles crossed his arms and gave Peter an unimpressed look.

“I _suspect_ ,” Peter said, “that Deucalion was casting a wide net when he set the twins on Danny and Lydia. He knew he was looking for _something_ , but not what. Deucalion was looking in the wrong direction. He realized his mistake and has turned his attention to you, Stiles.”

“He’s still looking in the wrong direction,” Stiles insisted.

“Is he?”

Stiles resisted the urge to stomp his foot. “Stop being cryptic.”

“If I’m being cryptic it’s because I don’t know any more than Deucalion does. He’s taking a shot in the dark (no pun intended), and so are we.” Peter gave Stiles a once over. “I knew there was something special about you.”

“You never stop being creepy, do you? But the key is that they’re looking for someone _important to Derek_ , and that is definitely not me.” Stiles swallowed hard and spoke the words even though it hurt to do so. “I’m only here right now because I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Derek thinks I’m a liability and he hates my guts.”

Derek looked like he’d been stabbed. “I don’t hate your guts.”

Stiles snorted. “Damned with faint praise.” He waved his hand and changed the subject. “How’s the search going?”

From the sour looks and growls Stiles deduced it wasn’t going well. “At least we’re narrowing down the possibilities. Can I see the list again?”

Derek gestured towards the table and Stiles found the list. Over half of the highlighted properties had been crossed off. They’d already searched the properties furthest away from town and were moving closer. They had to be close, otherwise they’d soon be searching properties inside the town.

“Alright.” Stiles set the list down. “We’re missing something.” He stared at the ceiling in thought, only realizing he was drumming his fingers on the table when Derek growled. “Sorry. We need information.”

“About what?” Peter said.

“Let’s start with the alpha pack. You were there during the peace talks, what can you tell us?”

“I wasn’t _there_ ,” Peter said.

“Wasn’t _supposed_ to be there,” Derek corrected.

Peter and Derek shared a look that made Stiles curious as to what their relationship had been like before the fire and everything that had gone down since Peter woke from the coma.

“I overheard some things,” Peter said. “I didn’t know any of the alphas other than introductions and gossip,” he admitted.

“Spill.”

“Ennis was a hot head. At least at the time. His pack member had been killed by hunters. Kali was a proponent of werewolves not mixing with humans, despite having a taboo relationship with her very human emissary. Deucalion was the peacemaker.”

“That doesn’t help,” Stiles said, disappointed.

“No.”

“Has anyone survived an encounter with the alpha pack?”

“Not as far as I’m aware,” Peter said. “Then again, I’ve been in a coma for the past six years.”

“Did they try to recruit your mother?” Stiles asked Derek.

“What?”

“This all went down right here in Beacon Hills,” Stiles said. “If they’re after you because of the possibility of the full-shift, surely they would’ve wanted your mother to join them.”

“She never would have agreed to that,” Derek said.

“And back then we were strong enough that they couldn’t force her,” Peter contributed.

“There’s a new, untested Hale alpha in Beacon Hills _and_ Gerard Argent returned,” Stiles said. “It must’ve seemed like the best day ever when they heard that.”

~*~

Scott was in the waiting room when Stiles and Isaac arrived at the Animal Clinic. Stiles had told Derek he was going to try to pick Deaton’s brain about the alpha pack, and Derek had insisted that Stiles not go alone.

“Hey, Scotty, what are you doing here?” Stiles said.

Scott gave Stiles a squinty-eyed look. “Working. What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to Deaton. About a puppy,” Stiles added as he watched Scott try to coax a one hundred pound black lab mix onto the scale.

“You’re getting a puppy?”

“Maybe. I’m still trying to talk my dad into it. But I figure if I showed initiative and had all the information I’d stand a better chance.”

“Good luck.” Scott eyed Isaac. “Did you two come together?”

“No!” Stiles scoffed. “We ran into each other outside.”

“Oh. Are you here to look at puppies, too?”

“He’s here to see you, so basically, yeah.”

Scott looked pleased and even flushed a little. When Scott was distracted by the dog licking his face, Stiles gave Isaac a look and mouthed, ‘What the hell?’

Isaac shrugged and ducked his head.

Stiles jumped when Deaton said, “Mr. Stilinski, please come back now.”

As he followed Deaton, Stiles pointed two fingers at his own eyes and then at Isaac in the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture. Isaac flipped Stiles a different gesture. “Rude!” Stiles turned around when he bounced off the wall and saw Deaton disappear into his office.

“What can I do for you today?” Deaton said. Despite his bland expression, Deaton sounded resigned to seeing Stiles. Well, if he was more helpful, Stiles wouldn’t have to keep coming back to pry information out of him, so Stiles didn’t feel too bad about bothering him. Especially since Boyd and Erica’s lives were on the line.

“I need to know more about Deucalion, Kali and Ennis.”

“I can’t tell you very much . . .”

“You were Talia Hale’s emissary,” Stiles said.

“That’s true, but I didn’t have much to do with the other alphas. I met them, of course, but they had their own emissaries to advise them. I can tell you that Deucalion was quite naive. He thought he could broker peace between werewolves and hunters.”

“What did you think?”

“I thought it was foolish to try, especially when the hunter he was negotiating with was Gerard Argent.”

Stiles sighed. It wasn’t much, but at least it matched what Peter had said about Deucalion. “Alright, thanks. Anything else you want to tell me before I leave?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

Stiles snorted and turned to leave. He twisted around and got his feet tangled up with one another. “If Scott asks, we were talking about puppies.”

“Of course.”

Stiles paused. “You’re not going to say anything about me keeping Scott in the dark about what’s going on?”

“No.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, but he couldn’t think of an argument that wouldn’t circle back around to why he wasn’t telling Scott that he was helping Derek look for Boyd and Erica. Neither Scott nor Isaac were in the waiting room, so Stiles skedaddled outside. He jumped when Isaac, leaning against the building, spoke.

“Jeezum!” Stiles clutched his chest. “I thought you’d left.”

“Derek told me to stay with you.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean every minute.”

Isaac gave Stiles a judge-y look.

“Really?” Stiles pulled out onto the road before asking, “So, you hanging out with Scott today?”

“He’s working late,” Isaac said. “And he’s behind on the book he’s reading, so he has a couple chapters to read tonight.”

“Scott’s reading a book?”

~*~*~*~

Stiles slipped the fingerprints into the stack of documents he was scanning into the Sheriff Department computer. Isaac had refused to leave Stiles alone, so he’d still been there when Dad had gotten home, which meant Stiles had been forced to wait until his dad had gone to bed to dust the Missing Persons flier Ethan had touched on Saturday for fingerprints.

Stiles made sure he was alone when he scanned the fingerprints he’d found and attached them to a closed case so no one would still be getting notifications. Stiles ran the prints through AFIS and left the program running in the background while he continued to scan documents and answer the phone.

Last night he’d also sent a group text to Danny and Lydia. _do the bobbsey twins have a last name?_

Danny got back to him first. _bobbsey_

“Haha,” Stiles said out loud to himself. That text was quickly followed by another before Stiles had time to reply to the first.

 _it hasnt come up_ followed by _idea_ * with a lightbulb emoji.

Stiles waited, and waited some more. Danny finally got back to him with _jones_ at the same time Lydia texted _jones_

_how did you guys do that_

_hacked ethans cell phone account_ came from Danny and _aiden used a credit card sat & i can read upside down* from Lydia. *also Chevy Tahoe 6TPW000_

_you memorized the car information & plate no?_

_i have a head for nos_

_you really do_ Stiles typed back, then _thanks guys_

 _what are you doing with this information?_ Lydia texted.

 _googling_ Stiles replied. _maybe one of them has fb_

Neither one of them had a Facebook account. At least, not under that name. Stiles was going to have to run their names. He bit his nails and wondered how he’d hide the searches from his dad.

Stiles had run the plate through DMV and discovered that it had been registered under the name ‘Duke Jones’. Stiles sighed his disappointment. That didn’t bode well. He ran searches on the three names he had, using the case number of a closed file and his dad’s badge number. Unsurprisingly, nothing came up. The names, at least the last names, were all fake. Stiles had taken a deep breath and prepared to run the prints he’d pulled off the flier.

When the computer finally beeped with a result, Stiles almost forgot what he was saying to Mrs. Jenkins, who showed up at the Sheriff Department every month like clockwork because she was lost. Mrs. J had been staying in a nursing home because she had Alzheimer’s and needed 24/7 monitoring. Somehow she still managed to escape and try to make her way back home. Stiles tried not to let his impatience to see the results of the AFIS search keep him from keeping Mrs. J company and comforting her as best he could until someone arrived to take her back to the home.

Dad was looking at Stiles when someone from Beacons Crossing finally came to retrieve Mrs. J. “What?” Stiles said, pretending he wasn’t hurrying back around the counter. “I’m not a people person.”

Dad snorted. “Sure.” He left after giving Stiles another look.

Stiles waited a count of ten (seven) before opening AFIS. Stiles held his breath as he pressed the key, afraid to hope. They’d had no luck so far, what were the chances Ethan’s fingerprints were in the system?

Pretty good, as it turned out. Stiles stared at the screen, unable to process what he was seeing. He jumped when Tara threw a pen that bounced off his desk. Stiles quickly minimized the screen and turned to give Tara a look.

“Are you going to answer that?”

Suddenly the sounds of the Sheriff Department rushed back in – people talking, the printer demanding a paper refill, computer keys being tapped . . . and the phone at Stiles’ elbow ringing insistently. Stiles quickly picked up the handset and placed it to the side of his face.

“Good morning. Thank you for calling the Beacon County Sheriff Department. How can I help you?

~*~

Stiles skipped the diner and the café (or anyplace he could be trapped by Deucalion and his rat pack), and used the Jack in the Box drive-thru. He munched nervously on curly fries as he drove to Derek’s apartment.

Derek was waiting at the top of the stairs. “What’s wrong?” he said as soon as Stiles came into view.

“I found something.”

“About Boyd and Erica?”

Derek sounded so buoyant that Stiles hated to dash his hopes. “No, sorry. About the alpha pack.”

Even Peter and Isaac showed interest as Stiles told them what he’d discovered about Ethan (and by extension, Aiden). Their last name was Collins and they’d both been fingerprinted when they’d accidentally been entered into the foster care system after the death of their parents. Stiles hadn’t been able to get into their foster care records, but he’d Googled the area where they’d lived and found news accounts of a ‘slaughter’ that had happened there just a few years ago.

“Their pack,” Derek said.

“They killed everyone,” Stiles said.

“Including the children,” Peter said as he read one of the reports Stiles had printed off.

Stiles would’ve made a joke about how Peter’s deadened voice matched the state he’d been in a couple months ago, but even Stiles realized that nothing about this was funny.

~*~

Stiles’ stomach twisted when he got home to his dad’s cruiser already parked in the driveway. He’d left the papers at the loft and had tossed the take-out bag so there was no incriminating evidence he needed to hide.

“Hey, Dad!” Stiles said as he pushed into the house. “How’d you manage to get out early?”

“I’m the boss!” Dad called back.

Stiles followed his dad’s voice to the kitchen. He was sitting at the table, a defeated slump to his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?”

Dad pointed to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

Stiles eyed the folder on the table as he took the seat indicated.

“What have you been doing this summer?”

“You mean besides working at the Sheriff Department?” Stiles said, the joke sticking in his throat.

“Yes, besides that.”

“I’ve hung out with Lydia a couple times.”

“What about Scott?”

“Scott’s working more hours at the Animal Clinic and apparently reading. He’s got some plan to become a better person. To win Allison back.”

Dad nodded. “What else?”

“Uh . . .” Stiles’ brain spun wildly as he tried to figure out what had brought on this line of questioning. “I’ve been putting up Missing Person fliers for Mrs. Boyd, Boyd’s grandmother. Apparently Boyd is his last name. Who knew?”

“And?”

Shit, shit, shit. “Helping to look for them,” Stiles admitted.

“Helping who?”

Dad sounded like he was casually asking, but Stiles knew better. “Derek?”

“Derek Hale?”

“Yes?”

“What does Ethan Collins have to do with Vernon Boyd and Erica Reyes?”

Stiles’ jaw dropped and he stared at his dad.

“I wish I could enjoy this moment of speechlessness.” Dad flipped open the folder and fanned out the pages – the results of every search Stiles had run that morning. “Did you really think I wouldn’t get notification of these searches?”

Stiles’ jaw snapped closed. “Yes!”

Dad tapped the all-too-clear photograph of the bodies. “Stiles, what have you gotten yourself into?”

Stiles shook his head. This could not be happening. His dad could not learn about werewolves, he could not get involved . . .

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll find out for myself,” Dad said. “I’ll start with Derek Hale.”

“No.”

“You’re going to have to find another summer job.” At Stiles’ expression he added, “You used department resources, Stiles, this can’t come as a surprise.”

“Dad . . .”

“And I’m going to send you to stay with your aunt when school starts up in the fall.”

“What? Dad, you can’t . . .”

“Yes, Stiles, I can,” Dad said with barely suppressed anger. “It’s your call. You can trust me or I’ll do what I have to, based on the information I do have, in order to keep you safe.”

Stiles’ chest felt like someone had kicked him and his vision blurred. From what seemed like a long distance Stiles heard his dad’s voice.

“Stiles! Stiles, can you hear me? You need to breathe, Stiles. Can you count with me? One, two, three . . .”

“Three,” Stiles said, “four.”

“Good.” Dad squeezed Stiles. “Good.”

They counted together until Stiles’ chest didn’t feel so tight.

“Jesus, kid, you scared me.”

“Me, too.” Stiles leaned into his dad’s hug and realized they were on the floor. “Did I fall out of the chair?”

“More like a slow motion topple,” Dad said. He pressed his forehead to the side of Stiles’ head. “What scares you so much about telling me that you’d have a panic attack?”

Dad sighed when Stiles didn’t answer. “I’m going to take a shower and then we’ll order pizza and figure out what we’re gonna do.” He pulled away and stood, then helped Stiles to his feet and back into the chair. Dad cradled the back of Stiles’ head, the way he’d done when Stiles was small. “Think about it while I’m gone.”

Stiles listened to his dad go down the hallway to lock up his gun, then up the stairs. The floor creaked as he moved around upstairs and the pipes rattled when the shower started up. Stiles wished he could go back to before the night when Scott had gotten bit. But there was no going back, and now the alpha pack knew about Stiles. He wouldn’t put it past them to use his dad to force Stiles to do whatever they wanted him to.

Stiles’ hand shook as he withdrew his phone. He made two phone calls and then ordered two large pizzas for pick-up.

~*~

“What are we doing here?” Dad said when Stiles parked in front of the loft. “And why couldn’t I drive?”

“This is where Derek lives,” Stiles said. “And your cruiser would’ve stood out, and we don’t want to be noticed.”

Stiles had wanted to use Scott as his prop, but Scott wasn’t available, and neither was Melissa to back up his story. Though she’d told Stiles to have his dad call her after Stiles broke the news. Stiles led the way into the partially converted warehouse – it looked like someone had started to renovate and ran out of money – his dad following with the two pizza boxes.

“I hope you got meat lovers,” Dad said. “The smell is killing me.”

“I did. But it’s for Derek.”

“Why does Derek get the meat lovers?”

“As a bribe to help me fill you in.” Stiles didn’t bother knocking, just rolled the door open.

“Stiles, you can’t just . . .” Dad broke off, sighed, and followed Stiles inside.

Derek stood in the middle of the loft, arms crossed, the usual glare aimed at Stiles. “What are you doing here?”

“Derek, hi,” Dad said. “Sorry for the intrusion. I really don’t know why we’re here.”

“You thought I should tell him,” Stiles said.

“Not here.”

“I need proof.”

“Scott . . .”

“Isn’t available!” Stiles said. “Make room for the damned pizza.”

Derek’s eyes went wide in understanding. He turned around and made sure the maps and lists were covered at one end. Stiles closed the door and touched his dad’s arm.

Dad followed Stiles to the table and set down the boxes. “Do you have plates?”

Derek looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Napkins?”

Derek dropped a roll of paper towels on the table. They ate standing up.

“I hope you know you’re sharing that meat lovers,” Dad told Derek around a mouthful of veggie.

“That’s Derek’s payment!” Stiles squawked.

“One, you called it a bribe, and two, I don’t care.”

Stiles sighed. “One piece.”

“Three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

Stiles glared. He’d been practicing. “Fine.”

Dad smiled.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Who do you think you learned the art of negotiation from? Also, I took a class on it.”

~*~

The loft was silent as Dad processed everything he’d learned in the last half hour. Stiles had tried to stick to the basics, but one question had led to another until the entire story had unraveled.

“Werewolves are real,” Dad said for the dozenth time.

“Yes,” Stiles and Derek both said.

Derek no longer sported fangs and claws, but Dad side-eyed him anyway.

“Scott’s a werewolf. And your entire family were werewolves.”

“Most of them; some were human.”

“And the fire?”

The corners of Derek’s jaw worked. “Hunters.”

“But the evidence that pointed to Kate Argent . . .”

“All true,” Stiles said. “The Argents are hunters. And some of them are more bug shit crazy than others.”

Dad scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is . . . a lot to take in.”

“You wanted to know.”

Dad dropped his hand. “Yes, Stiles, I want to know, even if it’s difficult to wrap my head around.” He took a breath. “Okay, I still have a lot of questions, but I think we need to focus on the missing teenagers right now.”

“Boyd and Erica,” Stiles said unnecessarily.

“Yes. So fill me in on this alpha pack and what you’ve been doing to find them.”

Stiles and Derek both started talking at the same time, then both fell silent. Derek gave Stiles a quirked eyebrow. Stiles waved his arm in a ‘go ahead’ gesture. Derek filled Dad in on everything they’d done in the search for Boyd and Erica, and Stiles interjected a few times.

“So your next step is to search the abandoned or empty buildings inside the town,” Dad said when Derek was done.

“Yes, sir.”

“So what does this alpha pack have to do with any of this?”

Before either of them could explain, Derek stiffened and looked towards the door. The door rolled open and Stiles expected to see Peter or Isaac. Instead it was Chris Argent who stood framed in the doorway.

“Rude,” Stiles said. He was filled with conflicting emotions at the sight of Argent, who could’ve only returned to Beacon Hills to help them with the alpha pack. Still, he reminded Stiles of that night, with the added worry that he might spill the beans about it to Stiles’ dad. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

“You asked for our help.” Argent stepped inside the loft and Allison followed him.

“Returning a text would’ve been a good start.”

“Am I going to need to shoot anyone?” Dad said.

Stiles glanced at Dad to see his hand resting on his weapon, which was when Stiles noticed that Derek hadn’t relaxed. Stiles took a step closer to Derek without thinking about it and was relieved when Derek didn’t lash out at him in fear or anger.

“Probably,” Argent said. “But hopefully not me or my daughter.”

“What about your father?” Stiles said.

A look passed over both Argents’ faces.

“What was that?” Stiles demanded.

Argent took a moment to shut the door before speaking. “Gerard’s disappeared.”

“Disappeared? You said he wouldn’t be a problem,” Stiles directed at Allison, still annoyed by her less-than-helpful text replies.

“And now he might be,” Argent said smoothly. “But it’s a problem for another day.”

Dad stepped in front of Stiles and Derek. “I agree that finding Boyd and Erica is the priority, but afterwards you and I are going to have a talk. We’ll start with the Hale fire and go from there.”

(Later Stiles would tell his dad that he didn’t think Chris Argent had anything to do with the Hale house fire – he could still recall the expression on Argent’s face when he realized Kate had been responsible – but for now he was enjoying the discomfort both Argents were feeling too much to mitigate it.)

“Good timing,” Stiles said. “We were just about to go over everything we know about the alpha pack. Since Gerard turned a peaceful werewolf into an actual monster, maybe you’ll have something to add.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Deaton lied to Stiles about his conversation with Deucalion before Duke's meeting with Gerard.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles confesses to his dad, learns about hecatolite, witnesses the twins' alpha form, meets someone who isn't who she seems, and learns he has a gift for manipulating mountain ash . . . and that he might be something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Stiles has another panic attack. It's near the beginning and of a short duration.

The Second Week of Summer Vacation: Friday – Saturday

Dad looked hung over the next morning. Stiles didn’t feel much better. Talking about the alpha pack and their plan to force Derek to kill his own pack, along with the crime scene photos of the pack Ethan and Aiden had belonged to, had made for a sleepless night.

“I can’t believe you’ve been dealing with this on your own.” Dad’s grip on the coffee cup went white knuckled and Stiles feared for its survival. “Is there anything you haven’t told me?”

“Yes,” Stiles said. “But ‘werewolves are real’ was the biggie, and the alpha pack is the problem we’re dealing with now. The rest is . . . details. I’d forget half of them if I tried to tell you everything at once, and it would be way too overwhelming. Can we talk about them as they come up?”

Dad considered that, and nodded. “Okay, I’ll let it go for now. I’d like to ask about something that did come up last night. No one seems to like Gerard Argent.”

Stiles snorted. “That’s ‘cause he’s an asshole. Gerard stabbed Scott and threatened Melissa if Scott didn’t help him with his plan to get bitten by an alpha to cure his cancer, and then turn around and kill the werewolf so *he* could be the alpha. God, what a jerk.”

“ _Did_ Scott help him?”

Stiles hesitated. “Yeah. But he had a ‘plan’. He didn’t tell me or anyone else about it, but there was a plan. Still, he forced Derek to bite Gerard and Derek . . . Derek believes that the bite is a gift, Dad.”

“Did Scott apologize?”

“No.”

“Not even to you?”

His dad knew him too well. “Not even to me.”

“Is that why you’re not hanging out with Scott this summer?”

“Maybe. Partly. He really is working longer hours and trying to make himself a ‘better person’,” Stiles said. “But I’m not trying very hard to find time so we can do stuff together.”

Dad touched Stiles’ arm. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“Thanks.”

“What else did Gerard do?”

Stiles pushed down the bile at the memory of being punched and kicked. “He lied to Allison, told her that Derek had bitten her mom.”

“I thought Victoria Argent killed herself?”

“She did. After being bitten by a werewolf. Not Derek. We think it was the alpha pack. Hunters apparently have a very strict no-tolerance policy on bitten members of their community.”

“Which Gerard was willing to overlook when it benefitted himself.”

“Go figure.”

Dad shook his head. “Why would the alpha pack care about Victoria Argent?”

“They didn’t. They cared about getting back at Gerard. Sowing the seeds of chaos was probably just a bonus.”

“What else did Gerard do?”

“He tortured Boyd and Erica, killed an omega by stringing him up in a tree and cutting him in half, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was behind Kate starting that fire.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” Dad said. “But back up to the torture of Boyd and Erica. Could Gerard have had something to do with their disappearance? Seems like an awful coincidence that he’d torture them and then they’d disappear.”

“It does, doesn’t it? But they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The alpha pack took them after Chris released them. That’s what it looks like, anyway.”

“Jesus, those poor kids.” Dad’s frown deepened. “Wait. If they were taken by the alpha pack before they returned, how do you know about the torture?”

Stiles froze. His dad’s voice faded until all he could hear was Gerard’s laughter and Erica crying.

“Stiles? Stiles! Come on, Stiles, talk to me.”

Stiles turned his head and saw his dad’s worried expression as he knelt on the floor beside his chair.

“Jesus, kid, you gotta stop scaring me like that.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just . . . tell me what’s wrong.”

“I was there that night,” Stiles said. “I know they were there because I saw them. They were hanging by their wrists, being electrocuted. Apparently the electric current keeps them from shifting so they could break free. I didn’t realize that until I tried to free them.” Stiles stared at his hands. “I got a heck of a shock.”

Dad took Stiles’ hands as if he could take away the pain from all those weeks ago. “Stiles, what were you doing there?”

Stiles closed his eyes.

“Wait. Boyd and Erica disappeared the same night you were taken by the other team.”

Stiles’ head dropped.

“You weren’t taken by the other team, were you?”

Stiles shook his head. “I was beaten by an old man who was apparently dying from cancer,” he said wryly.

“Stiles.” Dad sounded horrified. “Why?”

“He wanted to send a message to Scott. That he could get to the people Scott loved if he didn’t follow through.”

“Is that why Scott . . . ?”

Stiles shook his head. “I never told Scott. It was the one rebellion I could manage.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Dad said.

“No. You’re going to find him and arrest him.”

“He hurt you.”

“He won’t hurt me again,” Stiles said with more certainty than he felt.

~*~

“Is it true?” Isaac said when Stiles arrived at the loft that afternoon.

A quick glance around confirmed that he and Isaac were alone. “Is what true?”

“Chris and Allison Argent are back in town.”

“Yeah.” Stiles looked closely at Isaac. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

Isaac shrugged.

“Isaac, Derek’s your alpha, this is supposed to be your safe place.”

“She stabbed me,” Isaac said, making stabbing gestures. “A lot. I healed, of course, but it still hurt.”

“Of course it did.” They were both silent for a moment. “She trusted the wrong person. Doesn’t mean you have to forgive her, but do you think you can work with them to find Boyd and Erica?”

Isaac thought about that for a full minute. “For Boyd and Erica, yeah.”

Stiles gave Isaac the package of Oreos he’d brought. “How’s the search going?”

“We crossed off two more this morning. Derek and Peter are out there now checking out another.” Isaac paused, which caught Stiles’ attention. “I was thinking about the alpha pack forcing Derek to kill Boyd and Erica.”

“Derek would probably let them kill *him* before he’d kill them.”

“Yeah, no, that’s not . . . To create that situation Boyd and Erica would have to be completely out of control.”

Stiles nodded in agreement. “Feral.”

“How could they do that?”

“Drugs would wear off,” Stiles said. “And wouldn’t require so much time to pass. Unless they just like to draw things out. Deucalion does appear to be a bit of a drama queen.”

“If not drugs, what else could they do to turn Boyd and Erica feral?” Isaac said.

“Block them from the moon,” Peter said.

“Jeeze Louise!” Stiles yelped and clutched his chest. “A little warning next time?”

Isaac smiled.

“What do you mean?” Stiles demanded of Peter.

“Werewolves have a connection to the moon,” Peter said, “and we need to feel the moon on our skin. If we’re cut off from it . . .”

“What could do that?”

“Only one thing that I know of. Hecatolite. Or moonstone. A mineral formed from volcanic magma. It scatters moonlight and blocks the effect of the moon on werewolves.”

“Which means what?”

“It blocks transformation,” Peter said. “The longer a werewolf is blocked from the moon, the lower their tolerance to its effects.”

“So when they’re exposed to the moon again?”

“It’s as if they’re newly turned wolves. They’ll lose control.”

“Okay. Okay, so we’re looking for a building that used this hecatolite in its construction? Where’s the list?” Stiles found the list on the table and waved it towards Peter. “Any of the buildings left on this list made out of stone?”

Peter took the sheets of paper from Stiles and ran his eyes down the list. “St. Peter’s,” he said. “And the Beacon Hills First National Bank.”

Peter dropped his hand and Stiles snatched the list out of his fingers.

“But the outside of the building doesn’t need to be made of hecatolite if there’s a room inside that is,” Peter said.

“Like a storage room,” Stiles said. “Or . . .” He snapped his fingers.

“A basement.”

Stiles pointed at Isaac. “Yes! But we still only have to be concerned with the buildings you haven’t searched yet, right?”

Stiles waited for Peter to answer, but he was lost in thought. “Yo, zombie wolf!”

Peter’s head jerked up. “Sorry, what?”

Stiles repeated the question, and tacked on, “What’s wrong with you?”

Peter tapped the side of his head. “There’s something . . . But yes, you’re correct, Stiles, we need only concern ourselves with the buildings we haven’t already searched . . .”

Peter’s voice trailed off and Stiles shared a look with Isaac.

“Oh-kay,” Stiles said. “Then we’re getting close. What we need to think about is how to keep Boyd and Erica from killing us all when we do find them.”

“They should be fine if we find them before the next full moon,” Peter said.

“I like to plan for a worst case scenario,” Stiles said.

“They’re already trapped somewhere,” Isaac said, shuddering at the thought. “Can’t we leave them trapped while we re-introduce them to the moon?”

“That’s it!” Peter said. “The vault! The _bank_ vault,” he said when Stiles and Isaac were slow to get it.

“That’s it!” Stiles said.

“That’s what I said,” Peter said dryly.

“No, I mean, yes, but no. The video we got from Ethan’s phone.” It had been less than helpful at the time, but now that they knew what they were looking for . . .

Stiles pulled up the photos of the floor and ceiling he’d taken from the video. “Are these from the bank?”

Peter scrolled through the photos, a furrow between his eyes. He paused on one before handing the phone back to Stiles. “Yes. That’s the dome in the lobby.”

“We’ve got ‘em,” Stiles said. “We’ve got ‘em!”

~*~

Derek wanted to rush right in because of course he did. It took some fast talking by Stiles to get him to agree to wait. They needed to get the blueprints for the bank, which Stiles knew were in a file at the Sheriff Department. And they needed to figure out how to handle Boyd and Erica if they were moon-starved. Also, they needed to read in their back-up.

Lastly. “I have an idea that’ll even our odds a little bit.”

Derek crossed his arms and gave Stiles a look. “What’s your brilliant idea?”

“We separate the twins from the pack and take them out first.”

“And how . . . ? No.”

“Too late, sour wolf,” Stiles said. “I already ran the idea past Lydia and Danny, and they’re in. And before you think I’m any happier about putting Lydia and Danny in harm’s way, I’m not, okay, but we can’t fight them all, even with back-up.”

Stiles could tell that Derek wanted to argue, but he merely said, “What’s your plan?”

“A second double date. And mistletoe in their drinks.”

~*~

Stiles hated that he couldn’t be there, but the twins knew him, knew his connection to Derek. Peter, Derek and Isaac were in the same boat because the twins would definitely sense their presence. Still, they were close enough to offer back-up should the need arise. Stiles was stuck in the loft, but at least he was able to see what was going on via the cell phone cameras of each of their ‘operatives’ (and an unaware Ethan) thanks to Danny. And thanks to Argent, Stiles could keep Derek apprised of what was going on.

Stiles’ dad had insisted on being involved, so he and Melissa had arrived early and gotten seated at a table away from the entrance. The twins were waiting when Danny and Lydia arrived and they were given a table near the center of the room.

The four of them had ordered drinks and appetizers to share before Argent and Allison entered to set-up the ‘distraction’. Lydia saw them and called out, “Allison?”

Allison turned and, looking uncomfortable (not all of which was acting), said, “Hey, Lydia.”

Lydia jumped up from the table. “You’re back?”

“Yeah,” Allison said. “We just got back yesterday. I’m sorry . . .”

“I wish you’d called me.”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say, how to apologize.”

The twins had turned in their seats to watch the reunion between Lydia and Allison with interest. Stiles’ plan had hinged on them recognizing at least Chris Argent. Stiles was the only one who saw Danny add mistletoe to the twins’ drinks.

Chris waited until Danny gave him the signal before speaking. “Allison, we should take our seats.”

Lydia and Allison separated with a promise to get together and talk.

Stiles said, “The eagle has landed.”

“What the hell does that mean, Stiles?”

“The drinks have been spiked, Derek, oh my god.”

Lydia and Danny played their part perfectly, sounding surprised and concerned when Ethan and Aiden started to feel ill.

“Maybe we should leave,” Lydia said. “My place is closer, and my mom’s not home.”

Both twins perked up at that, which made Stiles want to punch them both in the balls. They agreed to leave and paid the bill. The two werewolves leaned heavily on their dates, and Stiles’ only consolation was that it wasn’t all a ruse.

In the dark parking lot the twins were shot with a heavy dose of elephant tranquilizer by Argent, who’d snuck out the back. They were loaded into a Sheriff Department van (that Stiles’ dad had ‘borrowed’ this time), and which had been painted with a mountain ash solution to keep the twins contained should they wake before reaching their destination.

“Can I take this thing out now?” Derek said.

“No! I need to know if anything goes wrong.”

“What are you going to do if something goes wrong?”

“Fuck you, Derek, leave it in.”

Danny had taken Ethan’s and Aiden’s phones, and with his and Lydia’s returned to their pocket or purse, Stiles no longer had eyes on the situation; he didn’t want to be left completely in the dark.

Stiles kept part of his attention on the transportation of the twins to the cells beneath the Hale house while he used the rest of his brain to study the blueprints for the bank, which his dad had dropped off before picking up Melissa, and plan the next stage of Operation Rescue Boyd and Erica.

Danny and Lydia showed up with Melissa in tow.

“Your dad didn’t want to leave the van,” Melissa explained. “And you still owe me an explanation.”

“Okay, fine,” Stiles said. “But this is going to be broad strokes because we need to finalize the plan to rescue Boyd and Erica.”

Danny sat at the table and started playing with Aiden’s phone. Lydia hip-checked Stiles away from the blueprints so she could look at them. Stiles walked around the table and gestured Melissa to the couch.

“Long story short, there’s an alpha pack. And yes, that’s exactly what it sounds like, an entire pack of freaking alphas. Anyway they want Derek to join their freaky little club, so they took Boyd and Erica to make that happen.”

“How does kidnapping Boyd and Erica force Derek to join their . . . freaky little club?”

“The price of entry is killing your entire pack.”

What?”

“The alpha pack’s plan is for Boyd and Erica to go feral so Derek has no choice but to kill them. I guess they figure once Derek does that it’ll be easy to get him to kill the others. But they don’t know Derek.”

Melissa raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Derek would let Boyd and Erica kill him before he’d kill them.”

“You think pretty highly of Derek,” Melissa said.

“You’re kidding, right? I think he’s a self-sacrificing idiot.”

“Sure,” Melissa said.

Peter and Isaac returned soon after. Isaac sat on the couch and shared a box of Cheez-Its with Melissa. Peter took stock of Melissa on the couch and Lydia at the table and retreated to a seat on the circular stairs. Stiles would’ve thought it was funny if Peter’s presence wasn’t making Melissa and Lydia equally uncomfortable.

“Where’s Derek?”

“He’s making sure the twins are settled in comfortably,” Isaac said.

“How come he sent you guys back?”

“Because Peter nearly pissed himself when he saw Chris Argent.”

Peter growled.

“You and Argent have a run-in before the fire?” Stiles said.

Peter gave Stiles a look. “Something like that,” he said, sounding more like himself.

“Okay.” Stiles decided that he didn’t need to worry about Peter right now. “Instead of sitting here navel-gazing while we wait for the others to return . . .”

Danny made a sound of protest without looking away from the phone.

“Except for Danny,” Stiles allowed. “. . . let’s spitball ideas. How do we get into the bank and rescue Boyd and Erica without anyone on our team getting dead?”

Everyone threw out ideas – split up the remaining alphas, attack from in front and behind them at the same time, send a team for Boyd and Erica while the others held off the alphas so they could, if they weren’t already feral, join the fight . . .

“What if we could cull one more from the pack?” Lydia said. “Pun intended.”

“How?” Stiles said.

“Have Ethan and Aiden call one of them for help.”

“Where would we lure him, or her?”

Lydia shrugged. “My mom really is out of town at a conference this weekend.”

“You want us to fight a werewolf in your house?”

“If you want more privacy we could use the lake house.”

As soon as the others showed up (after returning the van, so Stiles hated to tell his dad they might need it again), Stiles laid out their new plan.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Derek said.

“If Ennis doesn’t believe us then we’re no worse off.”

“What if they all go?”

“Oh. Then I guess we’ll need to make sure we have back-up.”

“Someone needs to stay behind to sneak into the bank and free Boyd and Erica if they’re left alone,” Derek said. “That’ll be me.”

“You’ll need me in case they used mountain ash like we’re doing,” Stiles said.

Neither Derek nor Stiles’ dad argued, which was because this plan kept him out of the fighting, Stiles realized.

“We need two werewolves at the house so Ennis believes Ethan and Aiden are there,” Lydia pointed out.

“Peter and Isaac can go,” Derek said.

“I’m not up to full fighting strength,” Peter said.

Derek merely gave Peter a look.

Stiles said, “Suck it up, buttercup.”

“You’ll need two people to pretend to be Lydia and Danny,” Argent said. “That could be me and Allison.”

Argent and Allison were leaning against the wall to the right of the sliding door, out of the way if someone came in. Argent was ignoring Peter as hard as Peter was ignoring him.

“That leaves me for back-up,” Dad said.

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but Dad gave him a look before he could.

“Actually,” Lydia said, “I should be there to answer the door.”

Stiles wanted to protest, but he couldn’t argue with Lydia’s logic.

“If Lydia and I are there, you guys can sneak up on them. Presumably there’s a way to mask your presence.”

Everyone looked at Derek, who looked at Peter. Peter huffed and rolled his eyes.

“There is.”

“What do we need?” Stiles said.

“You’re going to need wolfsbane bullets,” Argent told Dad. “Unless there’s a reason we need to keep one alive,” he addressed the room at large.

“As far as I’m concerned there’s no reason to keep any of them alive,” Stiles said.

“But I’d rather not have to clean blood out of the rug,” Lydia said sweetly.

Allison didn’t smile, but the corner of her lips twitched up as she and Lydia shared a look. Stiles wondered if they’d be alright, and whether he really cared.

They got into position. Lydia, Danny, Peter, and Isaac went to the lake house in separate cars because someone had to drive Ethan’s car there. Melissa went to the café that had a view of the old bank. Derek and Stiles stayed back to see if Ennis left alone.

When they were all ready, Danny made the call from the lake house, with Stiles and Derek listening in via the burner.

“What?” Ennis barked.

“We need help,” Danny said. Due to his computer magic, Ennis heard Ethan’s voice. “Can you come get us?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel good. I’m throwing up black shit. I think they poisoned us.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“Because I don’t want Deucalion knowing how badly we fucked up,” Danny said.

“Yeah,” Ennis said, sounding almost pleased, “he wouldn’t be happy about that.”

“Please,” Danny said. “Aiden’s still out. I’m worried about him.”

“Fine,” Ennis said.

“We’re at the lake house. You know how to get here?”

“Yes, Ethan, I remember how to get there.” Ennis ended the call.

Stiles shared a look with Derek. The alpha pack had done enough research on Lydia to know where the lake house was. He wondered whether they’d researched him after deciding he was the one they were looking for, and what they’d found.

“One person left the bank,” Melissa said into Stiles’ ear. “It looks big enough to be that Ennis fellow. No one appears to be following him.”

Stiles was torn between relief and disappointment. If they left Boyd and Erica alone it would be an easy rescue, but at least this way his dad wasn’t part of the group fighting three alphas. The next twenty minutes were tense. Derek stared out the window behind the table, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight. Stiles paced and bit his thumbnail. A tap on the comms, followed by three, then two signaled Ennis’ arrival at the lake house.

Stiles’ throat felt dry as they waited for the next signal that would indicate Ennis had been knocked out. Stiles let out a relieved sigh when it came.

“Let’s go.”

Stiles didn’t argue. They reached the Hale house before the others. Derek led Stiles down to the basement where they checked on Ethan and Aiden.

“What the hell is that?” Stiles said when he saw one huge werewolf inside the cage instead of the two he’d expected. The creature was slamming itself against the invisible barrier created by the painted-on line of mountain ash encircling the cell, and growling.

Derek tilted his head to the side in thought. “This must be their alpha form. I’ve heard that some forms are . . . different.”

“So, what, they just . . . merge?”

“Apparently.”

“I guess we know why Deucalion wanted them for his club.”

At the sound of Deucalion’s name, the creature roared.

“Shit,” Stiles said. “Has he done that before?”

“No,” Derek said. “I would’ve heard him.”

“Do you think _they_ heard him?”

The only answer Derek gave Stiles was a grave look.

“Shit,” Stiles repeated as he pulled out his cell and called his dad. “How far out are you?” Stiles asked without preamble.

“About ten minutes, why?”

“Because, uh . . .” Stiles glanced at the caged and very angry alpha. “The twins are awake and they just roared, which is like a call to their pack.”

“That explains why Ennis woke up and started thrashing around. We gave him another hit of the tranquilizer, but I don’t know how long it’ll keep him down.”

“We’re going to need to split up again,” Stiles said. He tapped his ear. “Argent, are you still on comms?”

“Yes.”

“Deucalion and Kali might be coming for the twins,” Stiles said, still holding the phone to his mouth so both his dad and Argent could hear. “We need to keep Ennis away from here for now and get someone here to greet the others so we can check out the bank.”

After a quick consult (and much to Stiles’ dismay) Dad and Lydia were to remain with Ennis and the Sheriff Department van (borrowed for a second time that night). They’d drive around so that if Ennis did get a roar off the others wouldn’t be able to pinpoint his location. Danny was returning the twins’ car to the restaurant parking lot for purposes of deniability. Peter seemed rattled when he was assigned the Hale house with Argent and Allison.

Derek and Stiles were going to get Boyd and Erica out, and (despite Derek’s expression of concern) Isaac was going in first to make sure that Boyd and Erica were actually there and that the bank was otherwise empty. (Melissa had gone home after the successful capture of Ennis because Stiles hadn’t considered the twins using their roar to call for help, so they had no idea if Deucalion and Kali were still inside the bank. Stupid alphas that could hide their presence.)

“We need you in fighting form in case you need to subdue Boyd and Erica,” Isaac had said. “It has to be me.”

Now, Derek reached out to squeeze Isaac’s shoulder. Stiles pretended not to see the way Isaac flinched before relaxing into Derek’s touch. “You’re not less important to me than Boyd and Erica, so be careful.”

“You weren’t planning to start without me, were you?”

Stiles jerked around and watched as a woman sauntered out of the darkness.

“Who the hell are you?” Stiles said.

The woman’s gaze moved past Stiles as if he wasn’t important and lingered on Derek. “I’m the person who’s going to make sure Isaac gets out of there safely.”

“Why should we trust you?”

The woman’s gaze returned to Stiles. She raised an eyebrow in amusement. “You ask a lot of questions for someone who’s not in charge.”

Derek placed himself in front of Stiles and Isaac, which put him between them and the woman. He let out his claws with a flourish of his hands. “Answer it.”

The woman’s expression turned sour. “Like that, is it? A friend sent me.”

“We don’t have friends,” Stiles said without thinking about it, for some reason wanting to argue with whatever this woman said.

“An ally, then. Somehow she knew you’d need convincing, so she told me to tell you that puppies require a lot of time that your new position won’t leave you much of.”

“Does that mean anything to you?” Derek said.

Stiles recalled the excuse he’d given Scott for his last visit to Deaton, and Morrell being there. “Yes. But what position is she talking about?”

“I have no idea,” the woman said blithely. “Are we going to do this?”

“You have a name?” Stiles said.

The woman smiled. “Braeden.”

Stiles turned to Derek. “Up to you. We could use the help, but we have no reason to trust her.”

“Even though . . . someone sent her?”

“Do we really have any reason to trust _them_?”

Derek scowled, unhappy with the entire situation. “Fine,” he finally said. “We’ll accept your help. But if you betray us I’ll rip out your throat.”

“With his teeth,” Stiles added, then wished he hadn’t because that made it sound very sexual.

Braeden gave Stiles a look. “Sounds like fun.”

Stiles sneered at Braeden’s back as she and Isaac walked to the front of the bank and up the front steps to the entrance. To everyone’s surprise the front door opened easily. Stiles was disappointed that they couldn’t use the explosives Argent and provided, and also wondered if Isaac and Braeden were walking into a trap.

“Can you hear anything?”

Derek shook his head, then glanced at Stiles. “With my teeth?”

“You said it to me!”

Derek’s ears turned red in the dim illumination from the street light. Stiles wanted to comment on it, but he didn’t want to distract Derek from listening to whatever was going on inside the bank.

Finally the door opened and Isaac stuck his head out. “We found ‘em!”

“What about Deucalion and Kali?”

“The rest of the place is empty.”

“You checked every nook and cranny?” Stiles said. “Because you can’t rely on your senses with these guys.”

Instead of a sarcastic reply, Isaac said, “We checked.”

“Then lets go get them!”

Derek and Stiles followed Isaac into the bank. Braeden was leaning against the waist-high railing across from the open vault. They’d waited for Derek to open the vault door, just in case Boyd and Erica had already been locked away from the moon for too long. The door had been closed, but not locked, so it opened easily. Erica snarled and looked like she wanted to attack, but as soon as she saw Derek she cried out. Derek pressed against the invisible barrier and Stiles glanced down to see the line of mountain ash that kept Boyd and Erica trapped inside.

“Erica! Boyd!” Derek said.

“I knew you’d come,” Erica said, her voice cracking with the lie.

It made Stiles’ stomach roil that she hadn’t been sure at all. They’d run away, they hadn’t been sure of anything, much less Derek realizing they’d been kidnapped. Or caring.

Stiles peered around Derek. “Hey, Catwoman.”

Erica’s smile was weak. “Batman.”

“Boyd. I met your grandmother. She’s nice.”

“Is she worried?”

Stiles set his thumb and index finger about a centimeter apart. “Li’l bit.”

“Fucking alpha pack,” Erica spat. “What the hell is up with that; a pack of alphas?”

“I know, right?” Stiles said, offering his hand for a high-five. “That’s what I said.”

Before Erica could slap Stiles’ hand Derek grabbed him by the neck of his t-shirt and dragged him back.

“Ow! Derek, what the hell?”

“Do you want to get mauled?”

Stiles threw his hand out. “They’re not going to maul me. Look at them. The vault door’s open so they’ve been exposed to the moon and nothing’s happened.”

“The vault is still blocking a lot of the moon,” Derek said.

“What are you talking about? What is he talking about?” Erica said.

Derek indicated with a gesture that Stiles should speak, and so he filled in Boyd and Erica on why they’d been taken by the alpha pack.

“We won’t have control?” Boyd said.

“Maybe,” Stiles said. “We don’t know how long you needed to be cut off from the moon before you’d lose control.”

“But it’s already been two months,” Erica said.

“It hurts,” Boyd added.

Derek held up the set of chains he’d brought. “We brought these just in case.”

“I knew you enjoyed chaining us up,” Erica said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Derek gave her a smile that was half snarl.

“And I’ve got this.” Stiles held up the bag of mountain ash.

“What’s that?”

Stiles pointed to the line of mountain ash keeping them trapped inside the vault. “More of that.”

Erica shuddered.

“You prefer the chains?” Stiles said.

“That stuff feels wrong,” Boyd said.

“Okay, well, last resort then. Ready?” Stiles said to Derek.

At Derek’s nod Stiles broke the circle long enough for Derek to step over the line, then closed it.

“Who’s she?” Erica said as Derek attached the chains to her wrists.

“I’m the person who’s going to shoot you if all else fails,” Braeden said.

“With tranquilizers, right?” Stiles said.

“Sure,” Braeden said.

~*~

Derek gave Stiles the signal and he broke the circle. Derek stepped out of the vault first and gestured for Erica to follow him. Erica took a deep breath and raised her face to the ceiling.

“How does it feel?” Stiles said.

“Right.”

Stiles glanced at Derek, who looked relieved. Boyd stepped out. He shuddered and looked so happy Stiles thought he might actually cry.

“Boyd?” Derek said.

“Erica was right.”

Erica raised her wrists. “Can we get these off, then?”

“Maybe we should leave them on just a little longer,” Stiles said. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“Ooh, kinky, Stilinski.”

Derek growled.

Erica laughed. “Derek, you’re still as grumpy as ever. I’ve missed that.”

Erica’s voice broke at the last and she threw herself at Derek. Derek caught Erica around the shoulder and held out his other arm for Boyd. Normally stoic Boyd didn’t hesitate to accept Derek’s proffered hug. Isaac shifted on his feet and Derek tilted his head. Isaac threw himself into the group hug, wrapping his arms around Boyd and Erica as far as he could.

Stiles was tempted to join the group hug as well, but he wasn’t pack. He dragged his eyes away from them and saw that Braeden was also watching them with a thoughtful expression. Stiles felt uncomfortable when Braeden turned that same expression on him, as if she could read his innermost thoughts.

“Okay,” Stiles said. “I hate to break up this happy reunion, but if everything’s going well here, we should get out to the house to lend a hand.”

His dad was still driving Ennis around, which left Peter, Chris and Allison to deal with Deucalion and Kali. It just struck Stiles that he hadn’t heard anything from Chris or his dad in a while, but he’d been too caught up in freeing Boyd and Erica that it hadn’t registered.

Stiles tapped his ear. “Dad. Argent. Dad? Argent?” He looked at Derek, who’d moved enough to loosen the hug. “Something’s wrong. We need to go. Now.”

They raced for the front of the bank, Erica and Boyd moving ahead despite the clanking chains, eager to be outside under the moonlight. Derek ordered Boyd and Erica to the Camaro where he could keep an eye on them. Isaac got into the Jeep with Stiles. Probably for the same reason.

“Are you coming?” Stiles said to Braeden, who stood calmly on the sidewalk and watched them.

“I did what I was paid to do,” Braeden said.

Stiles pressed his foot to the gas pedal before she finished speaking.

~*~

Things were strangely quiet when the Jeep and Camaro rolled to a stop at the end of the driveway. The only person in sight was Ms. Morrell.

Stiles was out of the Jeep like a shot, his gaze moving around as he approached Morrell. He saw four unmoving forms on the ground. Stiles’ heart leapt into his throat when he recognized Lydia and his dad. Stiles motioned to Isaac, who thankfully understood and went off to check on them.

“What’s going on?” Stiles said carefully to Ms. Morrell.

“I’m restoring balance,” Morrell said.

“How?”

“The alpha pack shouldn’t exist. They’re an abomination.”

“Because they were corrupted by their power,” Stiles said.

“You understand,” Morrell said. “You’ll make a good . . .”

“Where’s Peter?” Derek said.

“Inside the house with the others,” Morrell said calmly. “He should’ve never been resurrected.”

Stiles had thought the same more than once, but hearing those words in such a dead tone made his stomach roil. “What are you going to do?”

“Burn them.”

“No,” Derek said. “No!”

Stiles tried to imagine what this moment must feel like to Derek. Morrell was planning to re-enact the fire that had killed nearly all of Derek’s family, with Peter a victim for a second time.

Everything happened at once. Derek lunged for Morrell, who whipped out her hand without taking her eyes off the house where she’d trapped six werewolves. Stiles gestured wildly with his own hand, breaking the circle Morrell had formed before Derek ran face-first into the invisible barrier. For the next few moments Morrell and Stiles played a cat and mouse game with the mountain ash, with her forming circles that Stiles immediately broke.

Braeden stepped out of the trees and took control of the mountain ash. She created a circle around Morrell that Stiles couldn’t break with both of them controlling it. Braeden stepped over the line and pressed her lips to Morrell’s.

“You did a great job,” Braeden said.

“What’s going on here?” Stiles demanded.

Derek grabbed Stiles’ arm and pulled him around.

“Ow! What . . . ?”

“Go get Peter. You’re the only one who can. I’ll keep these two distracted.”

“How?”

“I can’t cross the mountain ash, but I bet those chains will.”

Stiles left Derek with Boyd and Erica to take care of Morrell and Braeden and moved closer to the house. He studied the front door, wondering what he’d find inside. Argent limped to Stiles’ side. There was a gash on his forehead, but he determinedly held a shotgun in his hands.

“How’s Allison?”

Argent’s lips thinned. “She’ll be fine.”

“You do realize I’m going in there to save Peter, don’t you?”

“You need back-up. I’m here to shoot anything that moves.”

“Except Peter, right? Not that I mind if you shoot Peter, but then I’ll have to drag him out of there.”

Argent gave Stiles a look and took the porch steps two at a time, despite the fact that they looked ready to fall in and he didn’t look too steady on his feet.

~*~

They found Peter just inside the circle of mountain ash that Morrell had created inside the house. Unfortunately, so was Deucalion, and he had his hand around Peter’s throat, his claws uncomfortably close to his carotid artery.

“Hello, Stiles,” Peter said with forced cheer. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you.” Stiles noticed that Peter’s gaze moved to Argent. “But you shouldn’t have come.”

“She’s going to burn the house down. Again.”

“She’s insane,” Deucalion snarled.

“You should know. She’s your emissary.” Stiles didn’t know exactly what had happened before their arrival, but he would bet that Morrell betrayed the alpha pack before they could betray her.

“Break the circle and let us out, or I’ll tear out his throat.” Deucalion dug his claws into Peter’s throat, breaking the skin. Stiles watched, transfixed, as blood trickled down Peter’s neck.

“That’s not going to happen,” Argent said, at the same time Stiles said, “You know we don’t really like him, right?”

“Drop the weapon.”

“You drop it,” Argent said.

Which sounded like a school yard comeback.

“I’m going to count to three . . .”

“Three!” Argent said.

Peter dropped, uncaring of the lines Deucalion’s claws scored across his throat, and Argent pumped two shots into Deucalion. Deucalion roared with pain and anger and still managed to take a step towards Peter.

“No!” Stiles yelled, reaching out ineffectually for Argent as he stepped over the line of mountain ash.

Argent swung the shotgun like a bat and got in one hit before Deucalion grabbed it out of his hands and tossed it further into the house. Argent reached for the gun in the shoulder holster he wore under his jacket, but Stiles knew that Deucalion was too close for him to get a shot off before the werewolf was on him.

Stiles was thinking about moving the line of mountain ash so that it was between Argent and Deucalion when an arrow flew past Stiles’ head and embedded itself in Deucalion’s throat. Stiles turned his head to see Allison standing in the doorway, bow still raised, a second arrow already in place.

“Get over here,” Allison said through gritted teeth.

Stiles glanced down her body and noticed that she was favoring her right ankle. When he turned back, Chris had Peter’s arm thrown over his shoulders. Stiles waved his hand and the line of mountain ash broke, immediately reforming behind Argent and Peter.

“How’d you do that?” Allison said.

Stiles shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Outside, Argent sat Peter on the top porch step and forced Peter to turn his head so he could check the injury. Argent dabbed at Peter’s throat with the hem of his shirt. “It’s still bleeding. Why aren’t you healing?”

“Because it was inflicted by an alpha,” Peter said, reaching up to touch the wound. “Why do you care, anyway?”

That was Stiles’ cue to leave. Allison must’ve felt the same because she was beside Stiles when his feet touched the ground.

“How’s your ankle?” Stiles made himself ask.

“It’s my knee, but it’ll be fine. Lydia,” Allison said, her voice heavy with relief.

Stiles followed Allison’s gaze and saw Lydia standing a little unsteady on her feet as she harangued the two women inside the circle. Standing next to her was his dad, service weapon held loosely in his hand.

“Dad!” Stiles ran over to make sure his dad was alright. Dad reholstered his gun so he could open his arms to Stiles without there being an accidental discharge. No one wanted to lose a toe.

After Stiles had looked his dad over for injuries he turned his attention to Morrell and Braeden. “So. What are we going to do with these two?”

“Don’t you think the alpha pack is the more pressing concern?” Morrell said.

“They’re contained right now,” Stiles said.

“You can’t trust them,” Braeden said. “You need to finish this _now_.”

Stiles ignored Peter and Argent’s bickering until they joined the rest of them around the circle. Peter tilted his head one way, then the other as he studied Braeden.

“Something wrong, Lassie?” Stiles said.

Derek pinned Stiles with a look, but Isaac stifled a laugh, so it was worth it.

“Yes, Stiles,” Peter said. “I bet this woman is, or was, my nurse, Jennifer.”

“I thought Nurse Jennifer was dead.”

“So did I,” Peter said thoughtfully.

Braeden merely smiled and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hmm,” Peter said.

“Alright,” Stiles said. “They’re not wrong. We have to figure out what we’re going to do with the alpha pack.”

“Kill them!” Braeden shrieked.

Stiles took a step back at the vehemence in her voice.

Braeden noticed. “You know you’ll never be safe until you do,” she told Stiles.

“What does that mean?” Dad said.

“They want him,” Braeden said, turning her focus on his dad. “They want what he can do. If you leave them alive they won’t stop until they get him.”

“Shut up,” Stiles said.

“I’ll take care of it,” Argent said.

“Because that’s what you do,” Peter said dryly.

“Yes, it is.”

“I want to help,” Allison announced.

“No.”

“They killed mom.”

“This job, it can never be about vengeance. It can never become . . . fun.”

“Wait,” Dad said. “Are you talking about killing them in cold blood?”

“I’m talking about justice,” Argent said.

“That’s not justice!”

“What would you suggest? Locking them up in a prison filled with humans? How do you see that working out? In this world, I am the only thing that stands between these types of werewolves and humans who don’t even know they exist.”

Argent glanced at everyone grouped around the circle. “Let’s take a vote. Who thinks they should die?”

Boyd’s and Erica’s hands went up first, closely followed by Allison’s and Stiles’. Morrell and Braeden raised their hands, then Isaac, Derek, and Peter. The only people with their hands not raised were Dad and Lydia, and Lydia looked torn.

Dad shook his head at Stiles. “You always were a little blood thirsty.”

“Dad, they kidnapped Boyd and Erica in order to force Derek to have to kill them. They wanted him to kill his entire pack and join them. They each killed their own packs in order to become more powerful. They will not stop just because we say pretty please.” Stiles took a breath. “And, as much as I hate to say it, Argent is right. You can’t lock them up with the general population. And it’s not like you have a special werewolf jail.”

Dad deflated, and Stiles hated having brought him into this all over again. “How do we do this?”

Dad, Allison and Lydia remained with Morrell and Braeden to keep them contained. Stiles went with Argent and the werewolves so he could open the mountain ash circle when they brought out the alpha pack.

Deucalion was still lying on the floor, black lines traveling closer to his heart. “Why don’t you look sicker?” Stiles said, recalling how badly Derek had looked when he’d been poisoned with wolfsbane.

Deucalion laughed. “Because I am the demon wolf!” he roared, and immediately started choking.

“Sure,” Stiles said.

Argent stepped over the line and Stiles broke it for the others. Argent and Derek lifted Deucalion off the floor. He didn’t bother trying to fight them. Either he didn’t have any fight left in him, or he had a plan.

“Be careful,” Stiles said when they handed Deucalion off to Boyd and Erica. “Don’t trust him.”

“And here I thought we had something special, Stiles,” Deucalion said.

“Euww.”

Argent headed to the basement. Stiles touched Derek’s arm. Derek stopped and glared, but Stiles waited until Peter and Isaac had passed them (Peter with a creepily knowing look and Isaac with an eye roll) before speaking.

“Are you okay with this?” Stiles indicated Argent, the alpha pack, the entire situation.

“We can’t just let them go,” Derek said. “Sometimes all you have is the best of two bad choices.”

“Well, that’s . . . kind of depressing, actually.”

Derek joined the others and they returned with the twins between them – either they’d been tranq’d again or they’d exhausted themselves trying to escape the cell.

“Keep them as far apart as you can,” Stiles said as he broke the circle. “We don’t know how they transform, so just in case they need to be in contact, or close proximity . . .”

“That’s fine for now,” Isaac said, “but what about when they’re in the back of the van?”

“Maybe we should do this one at a time or something,” Stiles said.

“Now you tell us,” Peter said. “What, he’s heavier than he looks.”

“We’ll just gas the back of the van so they’re all unconscious,” Argent suggested.

“Like shooting fish in a barrel,” Stiles said.

Argent gave Stiles a look, but it was Erica’s voice behind him that made Stiles wince.

“Better than what they had planned for us.”

“I didn’t mean they don’t totally deserve it,” Stiles said.

Erica shrugged and refused to look at anyone.

Argent said, “We’ll lock them up on separate sides of the van. That’s all we can do right now.”

Stiles closed the circle after the twins were brought across and Boyd and Erica headed down to the basement for the next alpha. They returned with Kali just as Peter and Isaac appeared.

“Derek and Chris are locking them up,” Isaac said as he passed Stiles.

Stiles didn’t know if he needed to close the circle again, since there was just one alpha left, but he did just to be on the safe side. Peter and Isaac reached the top of the stairs with Ennis and Stiles waved his hand to break the line just as there was a commotion outside.

Stiles opened his mouth to ask what was going on when Ennis revived. A weakened Peter and newly-turned Isaac were no match for him; Ennis easily threw them off and ran for the front door. Stiles started to sweep his hand through the air when he realized that something had gone very wrong, but Isaac stumbled into him and they both went down.

By the time they scrambled to their feet and reached the door it was chaos. Braeden and Kali were in a stand-off with Braeden using her power to cut off Kali’s air supply. The van doors were open – Boyd and Erica had probably been about to load Kali inside – and Deucalion had escaped. They’d relied on the mountain ash and his own injuries to keep him contained and that had been a mistake.

“Close the van doors,” Stiles told Peter, who, even weakened from being dead and magically resurrected, was faster than Stiles. “Then help Boyd and Erica subdue Deucalion. By any means necessary.”

Across the clearing Morrell was also using her powers to choke off the air of the humans who’d been left to guard her. She was still inside the circle so none of the werewolves could get to her. Stiles shoved Isaac towards Derek and Argent, who were fighting Ennis, and took off towards the circle.

Stiles’ felt Morrell’s grip on his throat as he got closer, but he pushed it away. He bent down as he ran and picked up a stick that had come off one of the trees. Stiles swung the stick like a bat. The wood was old and rotted, so the stick shattered on impact, but it was enough to break Morrell’s concentration.

Stiles heard the gasps as Dad, Lydia and Allison sucked in air, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Morrell. Stiles could feel her power, could sense that she was using it against him, and it was all he could do to fight it off.

“You’re stronger than I imagined,” Morrell said, sounding pleased and awed. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you . . .”

Morrell shuddered and her eyes rolled back in her head as she dropped to the ground. Stiles relaxed at the sudden release of pressure and noticed the prods attached to Morrell’s chest. Stiles followed the lines back to where his dad knelt with the taser in one hand, the other kneading his throat.

Stiles left Morrell with the uncharitable thought that he hoped she’d peed herself and rushed over to his dad. Stiles went to his knees and touched his dad’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be,” Dad said, his voice rough.

“Lydia?”

Lydia coughed and waved Stiles off. Stiles looked to Allison, who was reaching for her bow with a determined look on her face. Stiles didn’t even try to stop her.

When Stiles looked around, Ennis was down from a wolfsbane bullet to the chest. Argent was bent over Derek, who was on the ground. Braeden and Kali were still locked in a stand-off, but they both went down as Stiles watched, an arrow to the leg and throat respectively.

Peter, Isaac, Boyd and Erica were fighting Deucalion, but even though he’d been injured he was holding them off easily. Deucalion tossed Erica through the air. Erica snarled and got back to her feet slowly. That probably hadn’t been her first toss.

The others were still harrying Deucalion, but Stiles knew what was coming. He slammed his fist into the ground and yelled, “Isaac, down!”

Isaac grabbed Boyd and pulled him to the ground as Peter dropped beside them. Allison shot one arrow right after the other. The first into Deucalion’s shoulder, the second into his side. Stiles wanted to believe that Allison would’ve waited for Isaac, Boyd and Peter to get out of the way, but he wasn’t sure.

Stiles slowly stood and took in the scene. Ennis, Kali, and Deucalion were down, at least one for good, and the van was rocking as the twins struggled to escape.

“Somebody lock them down!” Stiles said as he ran over to where Argent was still bent over Derek. Peter joined them and stood back a little ways, watching.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles said as he skidded to a halt.

“He’s not healing,” Argent said.

“Right,” Stiles said. “Because Ennis is . . .” Stiles glanced over to where Ennis lay. “. . . was an alpha. So, what, should we get him someplace comfortable while he heals?”

Argent rose to his feet and gave Stiles a gave look. “He’s hurt really badly.”

“Yeah, but that . . .” Stiles’ voice trailed off when he realized what Argent was saying. “No.”

Argent clasped Stiles’ shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles shook his head, unable to process what was happening. They’d won. They’d rescued Boyd and Erica and defeated the alpha pack. They were supposed to be celebrating, not watching Derek die.

Peter stepped forward. “You can save him.”

Stiles scoffed. “I’m not a doctor. I’m not . . . anything. Just a liability.”

“That’s not true,” Isaac said. “And Derek didn’t believe it, either.”

Derek made a gurgling sound that almost sounded like, “Shut up.”

Peter went to his knees and took Derek’s hand. “That’s what you get, nephew. If you’re just going to lie there, we’re going to tell all your secrets.”

The “Fuck you,” was more clear, but still very weak.

“You’ve got to try,” Erica said. “You’re Batman.”

“Batman wasn’t a doctor, either,” Stiles said weakly.

“But he had a lot of cool gadgets,” Boyd said.

“I don’t even . . . How?” Stiles said plaintively.

From behind Stiles Deaton said, “Believe.” Stiles knew that if he turned around there would be no one there.

“Shit,” Stiles said as he went to his knees beside Derek.

Derek’s eyes rolled in his head until they were focused (for various definitions of focused) on Stiles. “Don’t blame yourself,” Derek said, then his eyes fell shut.

“Derek,” Stiles said. “Derek! Don’t you fucking die on me, asshole.”

Stiles placed one hand on the side of Derek’s face and the other over the wound in his gut. He babbled, “I have no idea what I’m doing, but if you die I’m going to figure out how to bring you back so I can kill you again myself,” and tried not to think about the blood pumping out of Derek’s body and coating his hand.

Stiles closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Derek’s ashen skin and the tear in his gut. His lips moved as he silently begged Derek to live. Don’t die, Stiles said to himself, to Derek. Don’t die, don’t you fucking die. Heal, Derek, heal, damn it!

_Believe._

“You are _not_ going to die. You are going to heal. You are going to live. And I am going to kick your ass.”

Derek choked.

“Okay, I’ll pay the wonder triplets in curly fries to kick your ass for me.”

Derek turned his head. His lips moved against Stiles’ palm.

“If you die I’m going to tell everyone you did it to avoid the humiliation.”

Derek’s body went strangely still.

“No,” Stiles said. “No!”

Pressure built. The same pressure he’d used to fight off Morrell’s powers. Stiles didn’t know how he’d done _that_ , much less how he was supposed to use whatever it was to save Derek.

_Believe._

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Stiles yelled. He ducked his head and thought about Derek driving the Camaro, exercising, training Boyd and Erica and Isaac, the glares that hid a sadness Derek didn’t want anyone to see. Stiles thought about Derek smiling and happy with a pack that trusted him, Derek with someone by his side who _he_ could trust.

Stiles’ hands felt warm. I have no idea what I’m doing, Derek, Stiles thought, but I want you to live. Stiles _pushed_. His head exploded with pain and everything went dark.

Stiles woke up with a headache. Someone pressed a finger to his throat and said, “He’s alive.”

Speaking of alive, Stiles mumbled, “Did it work?”

Derek grumbled, “Get off of me.”

Stiles laughed and it turned into a sob. He was too weak to move, but a couple pair of hands pulled him up. He was hugged by Erica and Isaac, then passed to his dad, who said, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, kiddo.”

 

Epilogue

Once they were all subdued and locked in the police van, Ms. Morrell, Braeden and the twins were transported to Eichen House. Where there was apparently a special section for supernatural creatures. Stiles, his head still pounding, had said, “Wait, so there really is a werewolf jail?”

With Boyd and Erica home safe, and the alpha pack dispatched, the second half of summer vacation was completely different than the first half had been. First of all, Erica and Lydia ganged up on Stiles one day and suddenly realized they had something in common. Outside of nearly dying, it was one of the worst days of Stiles’ life.

Pack meetings became a thing. Dad and Melissa insisted on attending them. As did Lydia and Danny. Isaac eventually convinced Scott to join them, though Scott spent the first three meetings glaring a hole through Derek or Peter (whichever one was in his line of sight at the time), which was hilariously ironic since Derek was the King of the Glares. Derek rolled his eyes and ground his teeth as his expanded pack invaded his space, but he ate another one of Melissa’s homemade cookies (Pack Night Snacks had also become a thing – Lydia was in charge, obviously), and didn’t say anything.

Mrs. Boyd hugged Stiles so tight after she’d welcomed Boyd home that he thought his ribs might’ve creaked, and, true to her word, she taught Stiles how to make sweet tea.

Melissa got copies of Lydia’s lab work, but they were still in the dark about what she was until one night she screamed just before Stiles’ dad got called out for a murder. Banshees were a thing now.

Stiles was allowed to return to work at the Sheriff Department after taking a blood oath not to misuse Department resources. He helped his dad close Boyd’s and Erica’s missing persons files without giving away the existence of the supernatural in Beacon Hills. Dad also made Stiles go through cold case files with him to see if they could figure out which ones they could close now that he knew about the existence of the supernatural. Stiles bought a white board that took up half his room and a package of different colored markers.

Next time they asked, Stiles joined Scott and Isaac to play video games. He and Isaac didn’t even bitch at each other. Too much. He had lunch with Lydia at least once a week. Movie nights were also a thing that happened once Erica guilted Derek into buying a large flat screen tv. Once again, Derek was appeased with snacks. Stiles thought it was hilarious and also made a point of making Derek’s favorite. He tried not to think too deeply on why Derek growled when anyone else stuck their hand in the dish.

Stiles had discovered that he was also _something_ and so he talked to Deaton, who was no more or less helpful than he had been before his sister had been tossed into a supernatural jail. (Stiles refused to think about the hints Peter kept dropping that he was also ‘something’ to Derek because that was crazy talk. It had to be.)

Now that his dad knew about the supernatural Stiles didn’t have to lie to him anymore. They talked about everything (except Derek, because Stiles had to draw the line somewhere) while baseball played in the background. Somehow it was easier when they could pretend to be watching the game.

Allison and Argent returned to France as soon as they could, but this time Allison kept in touch with Lydia. One day Stiles got a text from Allison that was just an address. Stiles stared at it for five minutes until he figured out what it might be. He went to the loft the next day and said, “Who wants to help me find Gerard?” Derek growled and said, “Stay away from Gerard,” but when Peter said he’d go with Stiles to find the old man Derek had a change of heart. Peter gave Stiles that same knowing look and said to Derek, “Yes, nephew, you should go with Stiles so you can protect him.” Stiles and Derek both ignored him. Or pretended to.

Summer vacation neared its end and cross-country practice began. Isaac and Scott agreed to try out with Stiles. If he had to run for his life from supernatural creatures he needed to get in shape. By the time school started up Scott and Isaac were an item (though Scott seemed oblivious to it), but that was okay because Stiles thought Allison (who had returned just in time for the first day of class) had her eye on Lydia.

(Stiles also thought he’d seen Peter and Argent together, and Peter did seem less snarky than usual, but Stiles refused to think too hard on it.)

On the first day of their junior year Stiles walked into BHHS with Scott and Isaac at his side. Boyd and Erica appeared out of nowhere, and then Lydia, Allison and Danny fell in line. Stiles had no idea what was going to happen with school or his powers (or Derek), but it was good to know that he had a pack at his back.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering about Peter's reaction to Braeden, yes Julia Baccari = Nurse Jennifer = Braeden = Jennifer Blake (if we'd gotten that far). This theory is based on is based on a theory set forth by the meta group.


End file.
